


Mad Grit

by Shorknado



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Attempted robbery, Drug Use, Dwight but hes like kind of an asshole but still an ok person, First Meetings, Frank morrison but hes like kind of an ok person but still an asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Meet-Cute, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, Smoking, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: Live in the city long enough, you're going to get mugged. Especially if you spend enough time smoking in back allys. Dwight learns that the hard way.





	1. First Few Desperate Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my good taste club. Im calling this ship dwank and theres nothin yall can do about it

He watches the smoke float upwards from his lips and slowly dissipate into the night. The cold stone of the office creeps into his skin and he closes his eyes to take in the faint sounds of the saturday night crowd getting wasted at the bar across the street. Can't say he was jealous of them, he wasn't a party guy, but anywhere was better than extra hours at the office.

Dwight takes another drag of the cigarette and looks down at his watch. This was his last fifteen minute break, meaning he still had two hours left here before he gets to leave. Two more hours of making spreadsheets and sending emails literally no one reads but the moment they don't receive one he's getting yelled at. Thrilling. He shifts against the stone wall, crossing his arms and glancing down towards the other end of the cramped ally. Nothing but a few trashcans and crows, he couldn't make out anyone suspicious near the parking garage. He turns his head back to the tag on the other office wall directly in front of him.

'Fuck Da Police' in fun bubble letters. It was probably going to get covered up by the city in a few days only to be replaced by a similar fun saying. He wondered if the kid who did it took requests, they had one hell of a way with colors. Neon green next to bright pink? Incredible.

He flicks ash onto the ground before turning his to the other end of the alley facing the street and bar. A figure was making its way toward him, the lights from the street cloaked their features in shadow completely obscuring their face. Dwight takes a drag from the cigarette and wonders if he should try for the door. Unfortunately he always fumbled with the key card when he rushed and made a huge fool of himself. Besides people passed through here all the time on their way to the lot out back. If he ran from any wayward soul he would probably have better stamina. He turns back to the tag, but keeps his eye trained on the slowly approaching figure.

As they got closer he assumes they're probably a man, hunched over with his hands shoved into his jacket pocket and hood up. Dwight dutifully stares forward, taking a pull from his cigarette defiantly. The scrape of the other mans boots grows nearer and nearer before stopping. No doubt only a few feet from where his sorry ass stands and right next to the door. He exhales a resigned breath of smoke and turns towards the man.

Now that he's closer Dwight can make out his appearance a little better. The guy was shorter than him by a few inches, wearing a ripped pair of camouflage jeans and what looked like snow boots. He was wearing a leather jacket over his hoodie, and had the ugliest throat tattoo he had ever seen. His face was still cloaked in shadows, but he didn't doubt there was a mad look in his eyes. The guy didn't move a muscle.

"Can I help you?" Dwight asks, taking a inhale from his cigarette.

"Yeah..." The guy says softly, pulling a hand from his pocket with flare, "You can."

Dwight tilts his head curiously, the guy sounded a lot younger than he had assumed. His eye drifts towards the hand and he only feels mild surprise to see a gleaming knife in the guys bandaged hand. The knife points at him, and the man steps closer dirty face finally coming into view.

"I just want your wallet. Don't wanna kill you."

He exhales smoke and shrugs, "Left my wallet inside."

The mans face falls for only a second before hardening into a glare. There are dark circles under his eyes and a pale scar on his nose. Guy looked pretty cute despite all the grime on his face, couldn't be older than eighteen.

"Then gi-"

"Do you just have a knife? Like...no gun? Not even a spray painted toy?" Dwight interrupts, looking at the blade. It was pretty long and would no doubts hurt him but he had decent health insurance. Getting stabbed would give him an excuse to take a leave of absence.

The man looks at the knife, then at him. Face falling into a look of utter confusion. He guessed the guy had never been talked back to during a mugging. Dwight stubs his cigarette out on the wall and pushes off the bricks, turning to face the mugger completely. He reaches into his front pocket of his button up shirt and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, freshly opened with only one missing. He pulls a second one out and holds packet towards his would be mugger.

"This is all I have."

He meets the mans eyes, they were baby blue and full of anger. With a sigh the man slips the knife into a little sheath and shoves it into an inner pocket on his leather jacket before gingerly taking the packet from his outstretched hand. Dwight watches the guy pat all of his pockets before huffing in defeat.

"Need a light?" Dwight asks, digging his zippo out of his back pocket. The mugger takes a cigarette from the pack and holds it out for Dwight to light.

He flips the zippo open and lights his second cigarette before lighting the muggers. Taking a drag as the guy walks over to the opposite wall and slides down, arms resting on his knees as he exhales smoke upwards towards the spray painted tag. He looked absolutely pitiful. It tugged on Dwight's heart strings. He watches the man smoke through the first cigarette in record time before lighting a second off the dying end and flicking the bud away. He looks at his watch, only five minutes left on his break.

"So, what's your issue?" Dwight asks, figuring he might as well pass those minutes well. The man glares at him, exhaling a cloud of smoke before responding.

"What's it fucking to you, eh?"

Dwight shrugs, "Guys gotta be pretty bad off to be mugging office workers in a back alley."

The man continues to glare at him before sighing, "I need money."

"Get a job."

If looks could kill the look his mugger gave him would put anyone six feet under. He wonders if he was going to get himself stabbed by being so insufferable. He should really lay off this kid, the man was chainsmoking his way to an early grave on stolen cigarettes. Hell, the guy probably couldn't buy his own anyway.

"S-sorry that was rude." He says, falling back into his demure paper pusher voice instantly. His mugger wordlessly flips him off.

His watch beeps, signaling a return to monotonous computer work. The mugger continues glaring daggers at him, and lights a third cigarette from the second. Dwight reaches into his pocket and pulls out his zippo again.

"Catch." He says before tossing the lighter across the alley. The man catches it in his free hand easily.

"If you're still here in two hours I'll give you whatever cash I got on me." He offers, cursing his good will.

"I'm no damn charity case." The man growls, meeting his eyes with a livid glare. Dwight raises his eyebrows and the man looks down.

Dwight shrugs and swipes his badge on the door, turning the knob and pushing it open. He makes his way to his desk, realizing he had one hell of a story for lunch tomorrow. Although he doubted they would believe the office pushover who could barely stand up to his supervisor stood up to an attempted robbery. He checks his wallet and finds forty dollars. The guy could use it more than him really, not like he was strapped for cash at the moment. Bills were paid he had ramen at the house, he would live. With that he slips into paper pushing mode, finishing his assignments with about five minutes left on the clock. He shoots out a few emails no one will give a shit about and plays on his phone until he clocks out.

He pulls his keys out of his back pack and exits out the back door, taking a few steps towards the parking garage before remembering his mugger. He detours to the back alley and peeks down, he doesn't see the bright light of a burning cigarette. Without a real second thought he turns down the alley and starts walking towards his usual smoking spot. He's almost dissapointed to find it empty with old butts scattered around. Shouldn't be so surprised really, no one that desperate would wait around for two hours for nothing.

With a shrug he turns around and yelps in terror, stumbling back a few steps and tripping over his own feet. He hits the pavement with a meaty thud and groans in pain. His would be mugger stares down at him with a look of reproach, hands back in his pocket. Dwight smiles nervously up at him, hoping he wasn't going to be robbed for real.

"You uh, scared me." He says, nervously standing and dusting gravel off his ass.

The man just stares at him. He had taken his hood off, revealing an overgrown bleach blond buzzcut that could use a redye. It takes a few moment for Dwight to remember the only reason he stuck around and he pulls out his wallet, taking the two twenties out and holding them towards the man. He takes them slowly, as if expecting Dwight to rip them away.

"What's your name?" He asks, wondering if this was proper post mug charity case etiquette. The man shoves the cash in his back pocket, eyeing Dwight suspiciously.

"Frank." He says carefully.

"I'm Dwight. I-I'm not gonna call the cops on you."

Those words seem to calm Frank's nerves, his shoulder untense and he nods.

"Thanks for not stabbing me." Dwight continues, unsure how to tell Frank he needed to get around him to leave.

"Nights still young." Frank threatens, slight smile appearing on his face. Dwight really hopes he's joking.

"Do it when I'm on the clock tomorrow at least."

Frank lets out a soft snort and turns around, boots scraping the cement as he walks down the alley, "Don't tempt me office boy."

"I'm older than you!" Dwight calls to Frank's back. The man raises a middle finger and turns the corner. He waits a minute before walking down the alley and towards his car. Thankfully he doesn't see Frank or any other muggers on his way there or on his way to his flat. Part of him hoped he would see the guy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank is 24 and dwight is 29 fyi


	2. Alpha Rats Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with a chapter 2 being self indulgent

Dwight doesn't tell anyone about Frank and his would be robbery a few nights ago. Honestly he had no real drive to make friends with his co-workers after they left him in the woods years ago, and half them barely gave him the time of day to sneeze. He showed up and did his job, made small talk and went home. It helped that he transferred to the so called graveyard shift from four to one in the morning, meaning he was the last to leave the office and could mess around on his phone as much as he wanted after twelve. It was a pretty sad life, but he had gotten used to it.

He glances at the clock, happy to find it was nearing time for his last break of the night and gets to his feet. He completely forgot to grab another pack of smokes or lighter during lunch so instead he makes his way to the breakroom, pouring himself a cup of coffee before taking the elevator down and exiting out of the side door to his usual break spot. He hated being in that cramped cubicle, and being near his coworkers made him even more miserable. He can always pretend that the city air is fresh and the alley didn't smell like rotten trash. Better than being inside with the figurative rotten trash. He leans against the wall and looks at the fresh paint covering the usual tag, taking a slow sip of the warm drink. Maybe if he left a post it note with a request the artist would do it. Something like-

A loud crash sounds from the back of the alley and Dwight jumps, turning to squint down the road. He spots what looks like a cat dart away and vanish into the shadows. Probably just fell into the trashcan and knocked it down or something. Faintly from behind he hears the soft scuff of boots and he spun back around only to come face to face with a familiar figure. Frank flicks open his zippo and the flame lights up the lower half of his face and the tip of a cigarette a dull amber. He looked a little less pale, no dirt on his face this time. Dwight smiles at him, hoping this wasn't mugging round two.

 

"Hey kid." He greets, "You know I don't bring my wallet out here for a reason."

The man rolls his eyes and all but blows cigarette smoke in his face, "I'm not trying to rob you."

Dwight raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, "That's sweet. You want another twenty?"

The constant scowl on Frank's face deepens, "No. God you're a prick. I wanted to...say thank you I guess." He takes a drag from the cigarette and looks pointedly away as if he had confessed a great sin.

Dwight smiles, oddly touched by the words of a street thug. This guy was a real riot, he couldn't help but have soft for troubled youths. He holds out his paper cup, and Frank eyes it warily.

"Coffee." Dwight adds, prompting Frank to take the cup. He watches Frank look at the liquid before taking a sip and making a disgusted face.

"Too strong?" He teases as Frank marches over to the opposite wall and leans against the white paint. The man narrows his eyes and takes a defiant sip of the cup, unable to mask a slight puckering of the lips.

"It's fine." He snaps.

"I can put sugar in it next time."

Franks face seems to soften at the offer, and Dwight wonders what he really meant by next time. He didn't expect to see the guy again after last night and now he was offering to memorize his coffee order. Can't say it wasn't abnormal for him to be the coffee boy despite his seniority in the office.

"...I like it with two spoonfuls." Frank grumbles softly, Dwight almost doesn't catch it over the din of the city.

"Sure thing, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

Dwight smiles and leans against the wall, crossing his arms, "How old are you?"

Frank takes a sip followed by a drag of the cigarette, "Twenty-four."

"Well then you're a kid to me, kid."

"Fuck off. You're only like...twenty something too."

Dwight stifles a laugh. He did have a very youthful looking face, but he knew the stress was starting to show, "I'm twenty-nine. You've only seen me in the dark."

Frank lets out a laugh and shakes his head, "Bullshit. You're not thirty you have to be my age."

He shrugs, raising his hands in apology, "Sorry kid. I'm ancient. Although I doubt you're twenty-four. You look like a highschooler that just dropped out."

Frank shoots him a wry grin, "I am a drop out..."

"Why am I not surprised." Dwight says with a laugh, "Not judging through. School sucks."

"School fucking blows." Frank agrees with a powerful convection.

His watch beeps, and Dwight's surprised to find his break already over. It seemed to fly by with company, not something he was used to.

"I gotta go, I'll be out in two hours if you-"

"I'm not a fucking charity case, Drake."

"Dwight." He corrects. Frank rolls his eyes and stubs the cigarette out on the wall.

"It's fine. I don't want your money." He insists with a growl.

Dwight decides not to push it and swipes his badge on the door, "Sure thing Frank. Stay safe."

The man doesn't respond and the door slams shut as Dwight returns to his station. The last few stragglers on his floor had cleared out so it was just him for the last two hours. He makes himself another cup of coffee before returning to work. He hopes Frank is ok out there. Maybe next time he'll bring something for the guy to eat, or ask him out on a date.

Dwight rubs his eyes and repositions his glasses. That was weird. He really shouldn't want to ask out a guy he just met who had threatened him just because he could hold a conversation. He was lonely, yes, but if he wanted company that hung around him only for food he would get a dog not a date. He finishes up the last of today's projects before setting out a plan for tomorrow's meeting. God he hated going to those things, he'd rather be mugged again than sit through his boss telling them they were all worthless. When the time nears one he grabs his bag and makes for the clock, punching out and making the walk to his car. He spares at glance at the alleyway, figuring Frank probably left by now no use looking for him. And passing out twenties wasn't in his everyday budget.

He makes it to his apartment and all but collapses on the couch after ditching his button up and tie. His thoughts wander to Frank again, and how the guy was faring. Summer had long since given to Fall and that was quickly changing to Winter. The guy was rocking two coats but that still sucks. He rolls over and drifts off into sleep.  
\----

Dwight's day started off real fucking bad. His phone died, causing him to be fifteen minutes late to work. Something his boss railed on him for despite three years of perfect attendance and overtime. Not to mention the hell of the meeting and having to do the work of four other people so the whole office didn't burn the fuck down. He should have stayed a fucking delivery driver instead of working at Pizzawhat headquaters. He angrily stirs sugar into the second cup before taking the elevator down and all but kicking the alley door open. Frank jumps and looks up in shock, hand fumbling for his inner pocket before he sees Dwight. It had only been about a week since meeting Frank and the guy had been permanent fixture during his last break. They shared a cup of coffee and cigarette before Dwight finished up his shift.

"Sorry." Dwight apologies, holding the cup out to Frank. He takes it and eyes Dwight carefully, almost looking worried.

"Shitty day." He adds, taking a sip of his coffee and realizing it was a lot sweeter than he should be. Frank takes a sip of his own and frowns. They exchange cups wordlessly.

"Thought you were security about to arrest me for loitering." Frank admits, taking a sip from his drink and hiding a contented smile by looking down.

"Security only patrols the front and back of the building at this time. Cops make rounds every half hour but they barely look down here." Dwight says, downing half his cup in record time, "I'm the only one who takes my breaks in this alley. Not good mugging territory."

Frank rolls his eyes and takes his usual seat across from Dwight, looking up at him with mild curiosity, "What happened in there? Didn't get fired did ya, eh?"

"God I fucking wish. If I left that entire floor would crumble. Just..." Dwight sighs, he hated complaining about work to people while still on the clock, "I'm a bit of a pushover."

"Could've fooled me. Didn't take you for a keener." Frank says, tilting his head curiously.

"A what?"

"Brown-noser."

"Ah. Well I used to be. I've gotten better about taking less shit from my co-workers but still haven't worked out how to tell the boss to shove it." Dwight admits, sipping his coffee and admiring the new tag on the wall. Eat, Shit, Die is bright orange.

 

Frank nods, shifting on the ground and sighing, "You work in this shit hole long?"

Dwight groans and slides down the wall to crouch miserably on the ground, not wanting to get his pants grimey before going back in but feeling the weight of his wasted life on his shoulders, "Thirteen fucking years. Same company different jobs. Started as a delivery boy and worked my way to dead end desk jockey."

"Thought you were a Secretary." Frank comments, dismissing Dwight's misery with a bored handwave.

"I'm not hot enough to be a Secretary." He replies absently, wishing he had that easy of a job.

"You look like jailbait."

Dwight shoots Frank a halfhearted glare, "You look like jailbait, Mr. Bleach blond totally not eighteen looking twink."

A shit eating grin appears on Frank's face, the same look he saw on the faces of countless people about to give him a hard time. Dwight prepares for the worst.

"You into younger guys, Dwight?" Frank mocks, no doubt thinking he had said the most scathing insult imaginable. Dwight sips his coffee, wondering if Frank was going to drop the F bomb.

"I'm into whoever I'm into, kid. Don't tell me you're into twinks too. Sorry if I'm too old for you." He shoots back. Frank frowns, an odd look in his eyes that Dwight couldn't read.

"You're not too old for me." Frank mumbles into his cup, Dwight isn't sure if he was supposed to hear that. Although the comment does cause him to look at Frank a little closer.

The guy was cute, wearing the same jackets but he had changed into black ripped jeans. He wouldn't look out of place at a bonfire or club. He looks back up and meets Frank's baby blue eyes burning holes in his skull. A blush rises to his cheeks and he hopes he isn't being creepy by staring. Frank's smile slowly grows into something more...insidious. He watches Frank drain his cup before tossing it aside and get to his feet. The man takes a few steps towards him, closing the short distance between them and crouches down to be eye level with Dwight. His pale eyes bore into him, and Dwight finds himself oddly entranced, even though Frank smells like cigarette smoke and sweat which he can't decide if that's a mood ruiner or kind of charming. Up close he can see another scar above his lip, and wonders how he got it.

"I'm not too young for you am I?" Frank asks, voice dropping to an attempt at a husky whisper. It was mildly attractive Dwight couldn't deny it. Before Dwight can answer his watch beeps, signaling the end of his free time.

Not wanting to get into further trouble he stands up. Frank also rises, a look of mild annoyance on his face at the interruption. Personally Dwight would have stayed down when attempting to flirt with older men, but to each their own.

"See ya." Dwight offers apologetically. He hated to interrupt the mans passes at him, they were cute.

"Yeah...see you." Frank replies, turning and walking down the alley.

Dwight returns to his desk feeling much better despite his awful day. Talking to Frank was starting to become something he looked forward to more and more with each passing day. And by the looks of it Frank liked talking to him too. Unfortunately his fondness of a new friend didn't stop his guilt at being late so he stays a few minutes past his usual time. He exits out the back door and peeks down the alley for Frank. The space is dark and incredibly menacing, he's surprised he isn't harassed more hanging out there all the time.

He hears the scuff of a boot, and before he can turn he feels a blunt object pressed against his back. Dwight stills, and his heart begins to race in utter fear. The warmth of another body presses against him, and he shudders in disgust at the warm breath on his neck.

"Gotcha." Frank's husky voice whispers. Relief floods Dwight's system and he relaxes. Carefully he steps away from Frank and the man lets him go. Allowing him to turn and face Frank.

The man has his lips upturned in a playfull smile and he tucks the sheathed hunting knife into the inner pocket of his coat. Dwight feels a strange twinge of worry at the fact he was probably a pack of cigarettes and free coffees away from getting stabbed. He smiles back, carefully putting a few extra inches between them.

"Guess I can't say I don't have my wallet on me, huh?"

Frank shrugs, "I don't want your money, just wanted to scare you a bit. Figured you were getting too cozy with me."

He was probably right about that, but Dwight didn't care too much. He just liked having a friend around really. Even if they were an asshole.  
"I'm free tomorrow, if you wanna...do something tonight we can." Dwight offers, figuring he could use something greasy to eat at this late hour.

Frank tilts his head, mulling the offer over before nodding, "No bars. You look like a mormon."

Dwight glances down at his business casual white shirt and tie combo. The backpack didn't help the fact that Frank was right, but he had to carry his shit somehow.

"Fair enough, where do you wanna go? My treat." Dwight says, walking towards the parking garage.

"Uhh...wherevers fine I guess." Frank replies, falling into step next to Dwight, "Why are you going to the parkade?"

"What?"

Frank points to the parking garage.

"Oh, uh I drive to work. I live just outside the city. Cheaper and all since the company lets us park for free."

"Huh." Frank grunts thoughtfully. Dwight figures he should finally ask something that's been on his mind for a while.

"Where are you from?" Dwight asks, "Not to be uh rude but you have a bit of an accent." He adds, noticing the sour look on Frank's face.

"Canada." He says firmly, leaving no room for comments. Dwight decides to comment anyway.

"Oh cool, what uh province?"

"Alberta."

Dwight nods, he has no idea where that is and figures Frank doesn't want to talk about it. He really should just drop the subject since Frank gets real whiny when he prys.

"What...brings you down here?" He tries again, the guy was pretty far from his hometown.

Frank shrugs, and awkward silence falls over them. Dwight unlocks his car, dumping his bag in the back and getting in the driver's seat. Frank sits down, looking around with interest.

"Buckle up."

He watches Frank lean back and spread out, sly grin appearing on his lips at the challenge. Dwight realizes giving Frank any sort of order is a one way ticket to defiance Avenue. Not one to drive without following proper safety laws, Dwight leans over and grabs the seatbelt pulling it over Frank and buckling him in. Frank winks at him, and he starts the car.

"Where to office boy?" Frank asks, fiddling with the radio immediately.

"I dunno, you want taco bell or something?"

"Holy shit I would love taco bell." Frank says before finding a station he liked and cranking the music up way to fucking loud. Metal music blares from his speakers, he's surprised they even got that loud. He's even less surprised by Frank's taste in music, not his cup of tea but he didn't really mind. He spares a glance at Frank only to see he had unbuckled his seat belt. Dick.  
Ten minutes later he's sitting across from Frank watching him destroy tacos at an alarming rate. The guy was really good at continuing small talk, although Dwight couldn't help but notice Frank was uncannily good at not talking about himself. Most of the conversation stayed on Dwight and him complaining about his boss and coworkers. Hell, he barely knew Frank's name and age after a week of regular conversation. It was like pulling teeth to get him to talk about where he was from earlier.

"Where should I drop you off?" Dwight asks curiously after  
checking his watch. It was nearing three and he should be getting to bed.

Frank pauses in his devouring of placebo Mexican food. He thinks for a moment before shrugging, "You can get going."

Worry immediately settles in the pit of Dwight stomach, "Your place in walking distance?" He asks casually.

Frank shrugs again, leaning back in the booth and not meeting Dwight's eyes, "Sure."

Dwight leans forward, and fixes Frank with what he hopes is a caring and not pitying look, "Frank, are you homeless."

The others expression hardens, his eyes turning into cold blue stones on an unforgiving face. Dwight really should have figured that out by now, but he tended to be slow on the uptake. Frank starts to stand, and Dwight quickly grabs his wrist.

"Wait! It's no big deal Frank. I...if you need a place to stay for the night you can...stay at my place." Dwight offers, cursing his bleeding heart. He couldn't let this guy go off on the streets, not when he was perfectly capable of giving him a place to sleep.

Frank's face is inscrutable, and his eyes dart away from him. Dwight releases Frank's hand, and lowers his voice into a comforting tone, "Seriously it's no big deal. I have a couch and a bed you can-"

"Shut up!" Frank growls, crossing his arms and letting out a defeated sigh, "...Fine."

Dwight holds back a smile, and gathers all the wrappers into a bag. He tosses it into the trash and Frank follows behind him to the car. Dwight sits in the driver's seat until Frank angrily buckles his seatbelt, then he starts the car and pulls out. Making his way to the apartment. Frank is silent in the passenger seat, Dwight can see him glance over every few minutes. He hopes Frank doesn't try to stab him in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwank dwank dwank dwank dwank


	3. Idylls of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey teens im gonna make a very real and serious disclaimer at the top of this chapter based on some comments ive gotten! All of which im incredibly grateful for and appriciate!
> 
> This is not going to be a happy fic. This is not a meet cute fall in love they grow as people and frank is a good guy. Frank morrison is not a good person, to write him as a jerk with a heart of gold is disingenuous to the intention of the game and people who have suffered at the hands of people like him. 
> 
> You're are free to like him as a character of course, hes an amazing character that can be incredibly fauceted in works like this. But he is not a good person. He is a monster, and dwight is not going to leave this without a few scars. This was never written with the intention of being romantic.
> 
> If that turns you off from this fic thats fine! Read this chapter if you want and take your leave! My other dbd fics are all sweet in cute if youre into dwake and kingsmith go read those for a good time. If you wanna stick around feel free, ill be putting warnings for serious stuff at the top of the chapter and you can enjoy this at your own leisure! People like Frank exist, and they deserve to be explored in fiction along with heroes.

Dwight opens the door to his apartment and drops his bag on the floor. He keeps the place clean and tidy so there's nothing to be embarrassed about. His place was pretty small, a living room with an attached kitchenette and his bedroom tucked in the back near the bathroom. His landlord was a great guy and the place was in a perfect location and a good price. Lucky him.

"Take your shoes off." Dwight calls as he loosens his tie and kicks his own shoes away. Frank kneels down and unlaces his boots, leaving them at the door, "And you can leave your coats uhh...on the couch?"

He watches with interest as Frank sheds his leather jacket, then gray varsity jacket revealing a long sleeve shirt underneath. He looks a lot skinnier without the layers, like a wet cat. It made Dwight want to feed him.  
"You...want me to wash anything?" Dwight offers, untucking his shirt before swiftly unbuttoning it.

"I don't have anything else to wear." Frank grumbles, crossing his arms and looking around curiously.

"You can borrow something from me." Dwight replies dismissively, making his way to his room. He drops his tie and shirt into the hamper and digs out two shirts. He changes into his favorite blue one and holds onto the block patterned one for Frank. He grabs a spare set of sweatpants after changing and comes back out.

Frank was looking at the books on his bookshelf with interest, the man turns to look at him, eye trailing over his change of wardrobe and Dwight smiles.

"Here. Bathrooms down the hall. The washer and dryer are in there."

Frank nods and takes the bundle of clothing from Dwight, he also grabs his jacket from the couch and shuffles to the bathroom. He listens to the sound of the shower before digging around in the closet for a spare blanket and pillow for Frank. He sets the items on the couch, and glances around the room. He didn't really have anything valuable out here, maybe the PlayStation but it's mostly used for watching movies. His wallet and keys were going to be in his room. And he figures Frank won't rob him blind.

The shower stops and Dwight turns to look down the hall. The bathroom door opens a steam floats out around Frank as he steps out. The short blond hair was plastered to his forehead, and the scar stood out more against his clean skin. He was very cute looking, had the face of an angel when he wasn't scowling. He glances down and notices Frank wasn't wearing a shirt. His eyes drift lower and he's utterly relieved to see him wearing the sweatpants at least.

"I left some blankets on the couch!" He says, trying to cover the way he was staring at Frank as the man walks down the hall.

"I'm not sleeping with you?" Frank asks, voice disgustingly innocent sounding. Heat rushes to Dwight's face and takes a small step back, putting some distance between them.

"Not today, I snore." Dwight lies. Frank takes a small step forward, erasing the effort he made to keep his distance.

"Another time then?" He tilts his face up, and Dwight catches sight of his ugly throat tattoo again. God it was awful, almost ruined the passes Frank was making at him.

"Goodnight, Frank." He says firmly.

The mans face falls ever so slightly, "Night, Dwight."

Frank walks past him into the living room, and Dwight notices a few scars dotting his back. He wonders what they could be from for a moment before walking to his door. He opens it and is just about to collapse in bed when he remembered something important. He walks back down the hall and enters the living room, causing Frank to perk up a bit from his spot on the couch.  
"Don't smoke in the house. The uh landlord gets mad. Usually I just smoke by the window."

"Oh sure."

With that he returns to his room and closes the door, taking the extra precaution and locking it. He lays on the bed and yawns, setting his glasses on the nightstand then laying back to stare at the roof. Letting his mind drift. He really shouldn't string Frank along so much, it was rude to do that to a guy down on his luck. Then again Frank was probably leading him on anyway. He rolls over and closes his eyes, putting further thoughts of cute blonds out of his head.  
\---

Dwight doesn't have a morning alarm, but the afternoon sun hits his eyes and wakes him just as well. He groans and gets to his feet, shuffling to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. He would rather like to sleep in, but unfortunately once he was up he was up. Maybe he could nap later today. He wonders over to his bag and digs out his fresh pack of cigarettes for a quick smoke while his coffee prepares. Unfortunately he can't find the lighter without his glasses and quickly gives up, dropping the pack on the bag in defeat. Instead making his way to the couch and sitting down with a soft groan. There's a bit of movement on the couch and he looks over to the blurry man-shaped mass at the other end of the couch. His works to put a name to the blob, finally remembering Frank from last night

"Mornin'. Sorry if I woke you." Dwight mumbles, leaning back against the couch and trying to will his tiredness out of him.

"Why the fuck are you up so early?" Frank asks sounding incredibly grumpy, voice thick with sleep.

"It's like noon." Dwight replies through a yawn, he squints at Frank.

"Where are your glasses?"

"Room."

"You look weird without them."

Dwight tilts his head, he never really saw anyone without his glasses to get an opinion on his face, "Good weird or bad?'

The blur of Frank comes into focus as the man crawls towards him. He feels hand rest on his thigh and the man leans in, faces a foot apart. Dwight squints, barely able to make out Frank's expression despite the proximity. Entirely too close considering how he just decided to try not to lead the guy on.

"Good weird." Frank says softly, raising a hand to gently brush Dwight's cheek, "You should get contacts."

"I'm allergic." He replies, holding back another yawn and brushing Frank's hand off his thigh. The coffee machine dings and he gets to his feet, shooing Frank off him, "Want a cup?"

"Sure." Frank replies, voice trailing behind Dwight. He can hear him jump up on the counter as Dwight digs out two mugs from the cupboard. Pouring two cups and dumping two loaded spoonfuls of sugar into Frank's cup and passing it to the man.

He takes a sip and enjoys the warmth waking him up more. He squints at Frank, also sipping away at his coffee in silence. The man was still not wearing a shirt, looking pitiful in his kitchen. The urge to feed him comes back with a vengeance.

"Want somethin’' for breakfast?" Dwight asks, thinking about what he has in the fridge, "I got...eggs? I can make pancakes."

Frank is silent for a few minutes, "Pancakes are fine."

He smiles at him and sets his cup aside, going to his room and putting on his glasses before returning to the kitchen. Frank hasn't moved from his spot, looking very content to be sitting on Dwight's only counter space. He digs through the cupboards and pulls out his boxed pancake batter and a bowl.

"Move your ass." Dwight says, watching a defiant spark light up in Frank's eyes. He needs to stop giving orders.

"Make me."

Dwight rolls his eyes and sets the bowl and box onto the oven, turning to face Frank and putting his hands on his hips sternly, "You want pancakes or not?"

Frank sets the mug down and stays rooted to his spot on the counter, "I do want pancakes. But I wanna sit right here."

"Can't have both." Dwight says, moving to stand in front of Frank. The other man grins, and Dwight notices his legs open ever so slightly.

He was too old for this. Dwight darts forward, wrapping his arms around Frank's waist and pulling him up and forward, over his shoulder. Frank lets out a shocked noise, and starts squirming. Dwight wasn't a particularly strong guy, but Frank was shockingly light. He's able to carry the squirming man out of the kitchen and to the couch, dropping him off on the furniture unceremoniously. Frank digs his fingers into Dwight's shirt and attempts to drag him onto the couch with him, but Dwight manages to stay upright.

"Be a good boy and stay put." He teases, noticing a bright flush of red on Frank's cheeks at the words.

"I'm not a kid." He snaps. Dwight shrugs and returns to the kitchen, starting on the pancakes with his newly acquired counter space. Frank sits up on the couch, able to look over the edge of the island at Dwight.

"You're stronger than you look..."

Dwight sets a skillet on the cooktop, turning the heat on and up, "You're lighter than you look."

Frank rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, shuffling past him and down the hall. Dwight pulls out two plates and starts mixing the pancake batter, "You want chocolate chips in them or uh...well chocolate chips?"

"Yeah. Make them Mickey Mouse shaped." Frank calls from down the hall.

Dwight snickers, pulling the bag of chocolate chips he bought two years ago for cookies out of his cabinet and dumps some batter in the hot skillet, attempting to make a mouse shape but one ear is larger than than the other. He catches movement out of the corner of his eyes and looks over to see Frank had put on his long sleeve shirt again. He spreads the chocolate chips over the batter, and Frank sidles up next to him and peeking into the pan.

"Wow. Looks just like Mickey if he had a cancerous tumor on his left ear." Frank says dryly.

"I'm not a pancake artist. Don't make me burn this." He threatens, flipping the pancake and feeling satisfied with the light golden brown of the food. And judging by how loud Frank's stomach growls he was pretty happy with it too. Dwight decides not to comment on it.

He cooks in silence under Frank's scrutiny, stacking three pancakes on each plate before running out of batter. He sets the dishes in the sink before digging his bottle of syrup out of the fridge. As tempted as he is to make a joke to Frank he decides not to push his luck, instead setting it on the counter and topping off his coffee mug. Dwight watches Frank drench his pancakes in syrup.

"I don't have a table to sit at bu-"

"I noticed."

"But, you can sit on the couch." He finishes, spreading a human amount of syrup on his pancakes before putting the bottle away. He walks around Frank and sets his plate on the table so he can fold the blanket and set the pillow aside. Frank flops down on the couch, turning to face Dwight.

"These are good." Frank compliments, almost halfway done with his plate. Dwight smiles and starts on his, happy to make Frank happy.

"Thanks."

He eats in silence, mildly creeped out by the way Frank was staring at him but unsure how to address it. Frank's plate clinks on the coffee table and he takes a sip from his drink.

"Why are you...doing this?" Frank asks softly. Forcing Dwight to look over at him. He sets the plate down and turns toward him, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I got a bleeding heart, what can I say." Dwight says with a shrug. He really couldn't figure out a good way to tell Frank he felt bad for him, the guy wouldn't take to kindly to being pitied he could tell.

"Aren't you afraid I'll rob you?" Frank presses, sounding annoyed at Dwight's answer.

"I mean, sure, but it's not like I have anything of value. I guess you could get like...two hundred from my TV and ps4 but..." Dwight shrugs, "You seem like a nice person at heart."

A strange expression befalls Frank's face, a pained frown as if he had brought up a painful memory.

"What makes you say that?" Frank asks, eyes staring down on his cup, "I tried to rob you a week ago."

Dwight shrugs, yeah he had tried to rob him, the first time that ever happened. But he obviously wasn't doing to well, probably cold and hungry and desperate. He wasn't attempting to hurt him because he was a bad person, he was just...troubled and needed help. Maybe it was a weird fatherly instinct? He runs his eyes over Frank and decides no he absolutely wasn't going to call what he felt fatherly.

"Dunno. Guess I just...see something in you? Like...good will? Or..." Dwight waves his hand vaguely, watching with dread as Frank's expression sours.

"Charity case?" He snaps.

"No, no like..." Dwight sighs in frustration and gets to his feet. He feels Frank's eyes on his as he gathers the plates and takes them to the kitchen. He watches the water fill the sink, and the dish soap bubble.

"Why not just let me be nice to you? I really don't have an ulterior motive I just..." The real answer comes to him in a flash, and he bites his words back. Instead turning the tap water off and sinking his hands in the soapy water.

He looks over at the couch only to see Frank gone from his spot, or maybe lying down. His heart starts to beat faster, and a feeling of dread descends on his mind. Dwight turns around, somehow knowing Frank would be behind him with a knife.

No one.

Dwight shakes his head and turns back to the water. He was being paranoid. Frank didn't want to be treated like a charity case or pitied. That was fine, Dwight could do that. If he ever got pissy he could tell him the real reason he brought him here and deal with being laughed at. He hears the toilet flush and shakes his head at his paranoid thoughts.

"Hope you washed your hands." He pipes up. Frank groans and he hears him stomp back to the bathroom and the sink start. Dwight was glad his downstairs neighbors were deaf with all the noise Frank was making.

Dwight finishes the few dishes and dries his hands, returning to his bag now that he had acquired sight and picking up his cigarettes. Morning routine almost complete. He finds the lighter right where he left it and makes his way to the window just past the couch, opening it up and taking a seat on the floor.

"Want one?" He asks, glancing over to Frank who had returned from washing his hands, "You gotta smoke it here or on the fire escape."

The man shrugs and walks over, sitting down in front of him. Their legs brush awkwardly and Dwight wonders if it would be rude to go outside now. He passes Frank a cigarettes and puts his in his mouth, lighting it before holding the lighter out to Frank.

The man ignores it, instead he leans forward and presses the tip of his cigarette to Dwight's lit one. He can see him inhale slightly before pulling away a few inches his blue eyes meet Dwight's before he turns his head slightly and blows smoke out the window. Dwight lowers his cigarette and tilts his head at Frank, the guy had an interesting way of flirting. Usually Dwight didn't spend a huge amount of time flirting when he bothered going to the bar, it was just a means to an end. That end being back ally hand jobs. But Frank was flirting like a teenager trying to impress their older crush.

Dwight takes a drag from his cigarette and looks out the window. His view of the back alley was incredible, thankfully he lived on the top floor and could peek over the roof of the neighboring building. He feels Frank move forward, their legs brush together as the other man awkwardly shoves his leg against Dwight's side, subtly pinning him against the wall.  
"Where'd you get your tattoo?" Dwight asks, trying to distract Frank from his attempts to climb into his lap. The man's face lights up, and he gently brushes his free hand against it.

"Oh, do you like it?" Frank asks.

Dwight looks at the ugly grinning skull with a jester hat and flames. The tattoo itself looked fine, not a stick and poke but god.

"Looks ugly." Dwight replies solemnly. He expects Frank's grin to fall, instead it gets bigger.

"Aww thanks."

"Is that the point?"

"No, it's supposed to look cute. Yes it's meant to look ugly." Frank snickers at him and flicks ash out the window, "Got it when I was fifteen."

Dwight raises his eyebrows. Canada was weird to him, but there was no way he got that tattoo legally.

"Got anymore?" He asks, thinking back to the pale mostly unmarred skin of Frank's chest and not remembering any other ones.

"You'll have to find them." Frank says with a sly wink. Dwight can't help but glance down to Frank's lap before darting his eyes away. He hope's Frank didn't catch that, but judging by the way the other leg bumped his side he was caught.

"I do have this one." Frank says, rolling the left sleeve of his shirt up and holding his wrist out. Dwight takes his wrist and looks at the blank skin, relieved to not see any self harm scars but confused at not seeing any ink.

"What am I looking for?" Dwight asks, glancing up Frank's shitty little grin. Frank gently taps just above his wrist, and Dwight makes out the vague shape of raised skin. He pulls the hand closer in an attempt to read the word.

"Does that say asshole?"

"Yeah. It glows under blacklight."

Dwight can't hold back a laugh as he drops Frank's wrist, shaking his head at the terrible choices.

"Who gave that to you? Please tell me it was a prank?"

"Nah, a friend of mine up in Canada did it. She wants to be an artist and it was her first stick and poke." Frank's voice takes on a wistful quality and he runs a finger over the raised skin, "It's fun at bars. Lets people know what they're getting."

Dwight stubs his cigarette out on the metal of the fire escape and flicks the butt into the street below. He can't get up yet, Frank had him trapped, so instead he leans against the windowsill and watches Frank.

"I didn't get warning when I met you." Dwight teases, "Can I get a refund?"

"I threatened you with a knife, Dwight. I think that's enough of a warning, eh?" Frank replies, flicking his spent cigarette outside.

"Hmm...got me there." They lasp into momentary silence before Frank asks the inevitable question.

"So...you got any tattoos?" Frank asks. Dwight sighs, and rubs his temples. This action causes Frank to perk up, "Oh you got a good one I can tell."

Dwight groans and stands, walking away from the window and Frank's attempts to pin him in. He sits on the couch stares at the roof in dejection.

"I have...one."

"Well don't leave me in fucking suspense. What is it? It bad?" Frank asks, watching him carefully from the window.

"Look I was drunk alright, and my co-workers are huge assholes. Like unbelievable pricks." Dwight says, sitting up more, "So I literally have no memory of getting this thing on my body. I woke up and it was here."

His spiel only seems to make Frank more and more eager to see what he got. He really shouldn't talk it up so much. It's not a bad tattoo per se. The craftsmanship is fine, it's a good picture but...

Dwight lets out a sigh and motions for Frank to come over. The guy stands, sliding the window shut and standing over him,looking down curiously. Dwight stands up, and doesn't even bother asking Frank not ro laugh, instead he just pulls the waistband of his pants down just enough to show the ink. Sitting innocently next to his left hip bone was a slice of pizza. Frank is dead silent and Dwight pulls his pants back up. Before he can open his mouth to speak Frank starts laughing. Unable to hold back a torrent of snickers and chortles at his shame. Dwight groans and sits back on the couch, watching Frank laugh at him with an annoyed expression.

"You done yet?" Dwight asks, watching Frank drop next to him on the couch.

"Almost. It's just..." He coughs and clears his throat, "Dude, it's not even bad. I've seem soms shitty tattoos. Hell, I've given some bad tattoos. Yours is fine."

Dwight pouts, sinking down on the couch and crossing his arms, "I know but...I'm sick of pizza Frank. I dedicate my life to fucking...pizza. I don't want a pizza tramp stamp."

Frank snickers at Dwight's distress. He guesses a guy like Frank wouldn't care too much about bad tattoos, considering he literally had asshole written on his body.

"Are you going to get it covered up?" Frank asks curiously.

Dwight had thought about it, but he didn't know what to try and get over it. He had no drive to get any sort of actual tattoo or piercing. At least while sober.

"It would end up bigger than it is already. And I dunno what to get."

"Let me see it again." Frank says, sitting up straighter. Dwight glances at him and looks down at his hip before sighing and pulling his waistband down.

Immediately Frank staddles his waist and shoos his hand away from his waistband, pressing his cold digits against his hip and running a thumb over the ink. Dwight should have expected Frank to make a move like this. He looks up at him impassively, only raising his eyebrows when Frank glances at him for his reaction.

"Any ideas?" Dwight asks carefully, not wanting to egg Frank on too much but not entirely wanting to stop him. He was an awful guy, what could he say.

"Hmm, I guess you could get a flower. Its only line art, shouldn't be hard to cover." Frank says, fingers tracing over the lines on his skin, "Or a skull."

Dwight tilts his head, glancing down at the tattoo and feeling a twist in his stomach at the sight of Frank's fingers skimming his waistband. He looks back up and wills his inevitable boner away, "I'm not really into skulls, and a flower would be too big. Maybe I'll get it removed."

"Why not lean in? Get it colored, add more stuff." Frank asks, voice dropping a few octaves as his fingers slip below his waistband.

Dwight decides to stop this now, he gently takes Frank's wrist and pull it away from his hip. He watches the man frown, anger flashing behind his eyes for just a moment. The sight sends a chill down his spine, and he releases Frank's wrist to take his shoulders and gently push him off his lap. Frank complies and sits on the couch next to him, no doubt seething in confusion. He didn't like the look on Frank's face when he said no. From the other room he hears his cell phone ring, and pointedly ignores it. Instead turning on the TV and starting his PlayStation.

"You gonna answer that?" Frank asks as the chirpy jingle continues blaring.

"Fuck no, only reason I'm getting a call on the weekend is my supervisor trying to get me to come in." Dwight replies, staring at the home screen thoughtfully before selecting Friday the 13th.

"Can I...use your phone to make a call actually?" Frank says, sounding less pouty and more excited.

"Uh, to Canada?" He questions, not wanting to say no but also not wanting to get a hundred dollar phone bill.

"Yeah, but I know a way to do it for free. Wouldn't be here if I couldn't."

Dwight thinks for a few more moments then shrugs, might as well let him have that. He was probably calling his parents anyway.

"It's on my nightstand, have at it."

Dwight didn't want to eavesdrop on Frank's call, especially not while running away from Jason. But the place was small, and Frank was surprisingly loud. Not that it mattered, since the guy was speaking French, and he took Spanish in highschool. He listenes to the rise and fall of Frank's tone, trying to figure out if he was upset or just always sounded like that when speaking French. He sounded kinda hot though, can't say he wasn't into it.

"...Look just put him on the phone its no..." Franks voice fades in before slipping back into French. Dwight wonders if that was his dad or an ex. He wonders of its ok to ask.

A few more minutes pass and Dwight dies before Frank comes out of the hall and sits on the couch. Seething with utter rage. Dwight glances over at him and wonders if he should pry or distract him. The guy got annoyed when asked about personal issues so he should try and calm him down.

"Wanna play?"

Frank looks at the controller, then at the game before taking it and pressing confirm. Dwight watches him run around uselessly for a few minutes, doing nothing but be a nuisance to everyone else. The mood slowly starts to lighten and Dwight figures now would be a good time to breach the subject.

"Are you...ok?" He starts carefully, trying not to set him off, "You don't have to tell me anything but if there's anything you wanna like...get off your chest?"

He watches Frank move Jason around the screen and violently murder someone. A small smile appears on Frank's lips, and Dwight feels a chill run down his spine. Sometimes Frank had a...aura to him that made his heart beat fast. And not in a good way.

"It's fine. Haven't called in a while so they were busy." Frank supplies shortly, "I'll call them again later. If you don't mind."

"No it's fine, as long as you don't rack my bill up!" Dwight feels a bit better now that Frank had calmed down. He leans back on the couch, watching Frank play awfully.

All things aside, he felt very happy at this moment. Being with another person that actually liked him was better than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwight is old and lonely and desperate for affection


	4. See America Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting a little touchy feely and casa de dwank

Dwight opens the dryer Dwight opens the dryer and blinks in surprise. He forgot Frank had washed his clothes last night. He guessed the guy only grabbed his shirt and not the rest of it. Without any further thought he folds the jeans, tanktop and jacket making a neat pile before shoving his wet clothing into the dryer and starting. He carries the stack to the living room and sets them on the coffee table. Frank glances up, eyes settling on his clothes and tilting his head.

"Oh, sorry I forgot them." Frank says.

"Don't worry about it." Dwight says, returning to the hallway and grabbing the broom from the closet to sweep the hallway.

"Do you...want me to help?" Frank asks, Dwight looks up to see him staring down the hallway at him.

"Nah, I usually tidy up around this time. And you haven't made a mess." Dwight reassures, dumping a dustpan of dust into the trash. He had watched Frank play through his short selection of games most of the day before getting up to start doing his chores. They didn't talk much but he enjoyed the company. Frank was awful at games, almost as bad as he was.

He sweeps the kitchen, Frank shuffling around him as he works. He was touched that the guy didn't wanna just sit around while he cleaned.

"You can put the dishes away." Dwight offers, making sure to word it as a suggestion and not an order. Frank nods and immediately starts attempting to put the plates in the correct spot, opening every cupboard before finding the one with plates, "What do you want for dinner?"

Frank pauses, holding two cups and thinking carefully. He sets the cups in their spot and shrugs, "Whatever you want."

"Do you have allergies?"

"Nah."

Dwight hums thoughtfully and puts the broom back into the closet before going to the fridge. Eyes running over the coupons the has tacked up with magnets. A few of them were closing in on an expiration date, so he should use those first. He hears the cutlery drawer open, and he takes down a few coupons for Steak N' Shake that expire in a few days. He was always down to demolish those tiny fries.

"Is Steak N' Sh-" Dwight cuts off when he turns to Frank. The man had his back to him, but he could see the shiny flash of the chef knife in his hand. Frank was just...staring at it unmoving.

"Frank?" Dwight says carefully, not wanting to show fear, "You want to stay here or come with me to get food?"

He watches Frank flip the knife in his hand, gripping it as if he was about to turn and stab him. A few slow moments pass before Frank sets the blade gently back into the cutlery draw and closes it slowly before turning. Dwight looks back the fridge and pretends he didn't see anything.

"I'll stay here." Frank says cheerily, brushing past Dwight and heading towards the front door. Dwight lets out a slow breath and folds the coupons up.

He grabs his keys and wallet from his room and walks back out to see Frank leaning against the wall near the front door. Dwight pass him the coupons and Frank picks out what he wants before Dwight leaves. It isn't until he pulls back into the apartment that he realizes Frank might have just played him for a long con. He climbs upstairs with a feeling of dread mounting in his heart that his place would be trashed. He guessed it wasn't too huge of deal, getting robbed. Not like he had a lot, it would still suck but...he didn't want to be alone again.

He knocks on the door to give a warning, and unlocks it. He pushes the door open, expecting the worst only to find his apartment the same as he left it. The window was open, and he can make out the form of Frank sitting on the fire escape. Relief floods his system and he makes his way to the window. He kneels down and sticks his head out, Frank looks up at him and smiles.

"That was fast."

Dwight shrugs, not wanting to admit he was worried about his home, "Wanted to get back soon."

Dwight climbs out the window, sitting next to Frank and passing him his bag. The sky grew dark, and the few stars that could peek through the light pollution shone bright. He looks over at Frank, and delicately plucks the cigarette from his lips. The man shoots him a glare, reaching for the cigarette but stopping as soon as Dwight brings it to his lips and takes a long drag. He meets Frank's eyes, and can't help but letting a smirk crosses his lips at the shine in Frank's eyes.

"You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?" Dwight offers, turning back to the sky and eating a few of his fries. He knew the couch could be uncomfortable having slept on it almost as much as his bed.

"Depends, will you be in it?" Frank shoots back instantly, taking the cigarette out of Dwight's fingers.

He hums thoughtfully, rubbing his chin and realizing he needed to shave tomorrow, "I'll think about it. My couch isn't very comfortable."

"Better than the street." Frank mumbles, taking a final drag from the cigarette before tossing it over the balcony and starting to eat.

"Guess so." Dwight agrees, eating the last of his fries before starting on his burger.

They eat in silence for a few minutes. Frank shoves all their trash into one bag and tosses it into the alley below. Dwight wonders if he was going to get in trouble for that, he hoped not. He hears the flick of his zippo and turns to see Frank lighting another cigarette.

"You want this back?" Frank asks, holding up Dwight's worn lighter.

"Sure." Dwight holds his hand out and Frank drops it into his hand. The weight is familiar, and he figures he needs to refill it again. He flips it in his hands and sees a crude carving of a grinning face. Round eyes and a pointed smile carved into the metal, "You do this?"

Frank looks down at the lighter and nods, "Sorry. Didn't think I'd see you again so I personalized it. You like it?"

Dwight runs his thumb over the engraving. It unsettled him somehow, tugging at the recesses of his mind.

"I do. There a meaning to it?" Dwight asks, shoving the lighter in his pocket to avoid looking at the grinning face.

Frank exhales smoke and shrugs, "Kinda. Something I used to draw a lot when I was younger. Used to have this mask with the face on it back when I first moved away from cow town."

"Cowtown?"

"Calgary. I was born there." Frank says, causing Dwight to perk up. He couldn't help but be interested in Frank's past considering how cagey he was.

"Is it a big city?"

"Fourth largest. At least as far as Canada goes. Nothin' like the GTA or Ontario but its big." Frank's face sours instantly, "Lot fucken' better than Ormond."

"Ormond?" Dwight asks, deciding to risk worsening Frank's mood for more information on him.

Instead of responding Frank holds out the cigarette, Dwight takes the hint and the cigarette. Dropping the subject as he takes a drag and lets the smoke drift away. He's happy to learn what he did though. Frank lived in the city before he moved here and drew dumb smiley faces. It was cute. Silence slips by them, and Dwight leans his head against the brick building, cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he exhales slowly.

His respite is interrupted by Frank's strong thighs strangling his waist again. He didn't know how he felt about this becoming a semi regular occurrence. He opens his eyes and looks up Frank, cocking his head curiously. The others face is light by the warm glow of the living room lights, his expression serious yet inscrutable. His heart starts pounding in excitement.

Frank plucks the cigarette from Dwight's mouth, fingers delicately raising the cancer stick to his cracked lips and breathing in deeply. The cold fingers of his other hand brush his cheek, thumb running against his lower lip and forcing his mouth open. Frank leans in until their lips are only millimeters apart. Dwight remains still, wondering if Frank wanted him to move in for a kiss or if he was just teasing him. He presses forward ever so slightly, and when their lips barely brush Frank blows the cigarette smoke into his mouth. He drinks the smoke in like water, hand moving up to grip Frank's hair and bring him closer.

Frank pulls away instantly, avoiding Dwight's fingers by inches. He sets the cigarette between Dwight's lips and stands up, wordlessly climbing through the window back into the apartment. Dwight takes the cigarette from his mouth and sighs. He was too old for this shit, but he can't say he doesn't enjoy it. Maybe if he were a few years younger Frank would have had his way and gotten in his pants already, but then what use would he be to the guy but a place to stay and a quick fuck. He knew how this stuff worked. They were just using each other for their own wants, might as well play hard to get.

He watches the cigarette burn down to the filter before throwing away, trying to ignore the symbolism.

\---

Dwight drops his bundle of clothing on the bed and starts putting his button ups on hangers and placing them in his closet. Meticulously folding his tee shirts before placing them in his dresser. His ties get hung on a cute little over the door tie hanger his landlord got him last birthday. When he tucks the last shirt away, he grabs another pair of pajamas for after his shower. He deliberates for a moment before grabbing his camo sweatpants and a loose tank top. Dwight turns and lets out a yelp of panic, Frank was standing behind him yet again. The guy was so fucking quite.

"Jesus Christ dude, can't you knock?"

"Nah." Frank replies walking past Dwight and nosing around his sparse room, looking over the papers and laptop on his desk. Mostly just side projects for work he messed with whenever he had spare time and energy.

"I'll be in the shower, if you wanna sleep in this room tonight you can. I know my couch sucks."

He watches Frank turn to look at his bed, definitely big enough for two skinny adult men to share without trouble too much touching.

"I might."

Dwight waves his hand and makes his way to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. Just in case. He starts the shower, waiting for the water to heat up as he strips down. He folds his glasses, setting them on the sink before climbing into the shower. He takes a while to enjoy the warm water before washing his hair and general upkeep. He wonders if the sound of the doorknob shaking was just his imagination or not. After a long six minutes he stops the water, drying off with a towel before dressing. He clips his glasses to his tank top and opens the door, walking to his room and dumping the dirty clothes in his hamper. He squints at his bed, trying to see if Frank was there. It was hard to tell without being able to see. Either way he walks forward and sets his glasses on the nightstand.

Frank's cold hand shoots out from under the blankets and wraps around Dwight's wrist in a strong but not quite crushing grip. He gasps in shock as Frank yanks him forward with surprising strength. He stumbles and falls halfway onto of Frank who had been hiding under his duvet. The man grins up at him, and sits up. Frank had taken his shirt off. Again.

"Don't you get cold?" Dwight asks, attempting to move away from Frank's grasp and failing.

"A bit, could be better off with you here." Frank says with a wink, "Also this bed is really comfy."

Frank finally releases his wrist and runs his eyes over Dwight's attire. He feels a flash of self consciousness and looks at the door. He should really get going to the couch, but part of him really wanted to stay. He knew it was the part of him that hadn't slept in the same bed as another in years. The part that desperately wanted any sort of contact, no matter where it came from. He gets up and walks to the door, turning the light off and plunging the room into darkness. Only the gentle glow of the streetlights kept them company. He glances down the hall, towards the couch then back at the bed. Something had to give.

Dwight walks back to the bed and pulls the covers back, laying down and rolling over so his back was to Frank. He could feel the warmth of the others body, and that was enough.

"Not a cuddler?" Frank asks voice casual and almost lighthearted.

"No, not really." Dwight lies, staring at the faint glow of his laptops charging light, "You?"

Frank shifts behind him, he's unsure if the man turned his back or moved forward but not wanting to check.

"You'll have to find out." Frank teases.

Dwight doesn't respond, instead closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep. Pushing heavy thoughts out of his mind and focusing on Frank's light breaths and the warmth of another.

\---

A vague dream gives away to consciousness almost seamlessly. Dwight keeps his eyes closed, not really wanting to get up and do anything today. He's not one to waste his weekends being productive, that was saved for workdays. Not to mention he didn't want to go through the trouble of untangling himself from Frank's arms. He guessed it happened shortly after he fell asleep, although Frank struck him as more of a little spoon. Probably since he had at least three inches on him and the guy was a starving street thug. As if sensing his thoughts Frank shifts in his sleep and pulls Dwight closer, pressing himself against his chest and grumbling incoherently. In doing so he also presses his morning wood directly against the small of his back.

He can't blame the guy, it happens. Probably more embarrassing for Frank than him. Although if the guy starts humping him he's gonna leave the bed. Thankfully Frank remains still besides the rise and fall of his breathing. Dwight allows himself to relax into Frank's arms and starts to drift off into a state of almost sleep. Until Frank's hand runs over his chest and down his side. Dwight doesn't make a move to stop it, no use getting worked up over a guy moving around. The hand stops at the hem of his tank top, fingers gently brushing the sensitive skin of his hip before sliding under his shirt.

He wonders if Frank is doing this on purpose as the cold and rough hand makes its way up his chest. Frank had freezing hands, he was probably cold in his sleep. Nothing to get worked up by. He lays still as Frank essentially caresses his chest, biting his lip to hold back a whine when the cold fingers run over his nipples. He hadn't been touched by anyone for a while he was real sensitive. He kept telling himself that as Frank gently runs his nails down his chest until he reaches his pants and drags them along the waistband of his sweats. It takes almost everything in him not to gasp at the shocks the touches sent through his body. Frank's fingers trace indistinct patterns along his hip bone, as if trying to coax a moan from him. He hated how sensitive he was to these little touches, it had always been a weak spot. He feels Frank nuzzle his neck, and the mans hand finally slips into his pants.

"I know you're awake." Frank whispers into his ear, voice low and still thick with sleep.

Dwight lets out a soft moan and grabs Frank's wrist, yanking it out of his pants before the guy could grab his dick and see how much this was getting him off. He feels Frank stiffen behind him and he carefully sits up, any semblance of sleep gone from his mind. Frank pulls his arm back and Dwight releases his wrist, looking down at his blurry form. He suspects a smug grin on the mans face, and is happy he can't see what lurks behind those eyes in this moment.

"Morning." Dwight greets, deciding to pretend that didn't happen, and that he was suddenly incredibly hard under the duvet for no reason.. Frank stretches, a few joints popping before crossing his arms behind his head. Pretending to be unbothered.

"Mornin' sleep well?" Frank asks innocently.

Dwight plucks his glasses off the nightstand and puts them on, glancing at the clock and seeing it was already twelve. Time flies when sleeping in the same bed as a horny young adult as an equally horny adult.

"Not bad. You?" Dwight replies, looking down at Frank and noting the satisfied smirk on his face, "Sweet dreams?" He adds, not so subtle glancing down.

Unfortunately this only causes Frank's shit eating grin to widen and he sits up, leaning into Dwight's personal space and all but batting his eyelashes.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Dwight really didn't want to know what fucked up dreams went on in Frank's pretty little head. In lieu of responding he gets out of bed and shuffles to the kitchen for breakfast, digging a poptart out of the cupboards and putting it in the toaster. He didn't feel up to cooking today, as much as feeding Frank made him feel morally better the guy can find his own breakfast. He stares at the toaster absently, listening carefully for Frank so he wasn't snuck up on again. He hears the bathroom door close and relaxes. A few minutes pass and his poptart finishes up, he awkwardly attempts to eat the molten chocolate mess and only mildly burns himself.

"You eat pop tarts weird." Frank says, apparently having watched the whole ordeal. He was thankfully wearing a shirt again.

"I eat them normally?" Dwight says, blowing on the chocolate to cool it.

"Dude you're supposed to eat them cold. They're better that way." Frank opens a pack and starts eating one to prove his point. Dwight feels himself recoil in disgust.

"That's gross. You're being disgusting."

Frank flips him off, continuing to eat his cold and sad poptart as if nothing was wrong. Dwight shakes his head in disappointment. He watches Frank riffle through his fridge and pull out some milk, he can tell the guy is about to drink right from the carton. Frank glances at him and sighs, setting the milk on the counter and getting a mug from the cabinet to pour a glass. Dwight watches him put the milk away, then grab the syrup. He watches in fascination as Frank dumps the maple syrup into the milk and swirl it around before drinking it.

"You have the taste of a four year old child." Dwight teases, causing Frank to flip him off. The man sips his milk and holds back a smile. It was cute.

"Hey Dwight...I figure I should...address this now instead of later..." Frank's starts slowly, voice light and almost bashful, "I really do appreciate you doing this for me I-I know I'm not...well I'm not exactly..." Frank sighs and takes a drink of his milk.

Dwight tilts his head, not used to seeing Frank so unconfident, "Easy to get along with? Nice? Welcoming? A good per-"

"Yes, Dwight. I'm a fucking asshole." Frank growls, sound more like his usual self, "Look I just...wanna thank you for letting me stay here and well y'know not calling the cops on me."

"It's fine, told you kid I got a bleeding heart." Dwight says with a shrug. Frank smiles slightly at that.

"Tomorrow you can drop me back off in the city. I'll get out of your hair. I know you probably don't want me sticking around here in the day when you're at work, stressing over if I'm gonna rob you or not. Y-you're-" Frank's voice cracks and he sets his mug down, turning his back to Dwight and letting out a shuddering breath, "You're a really good person, eh?"

With a flash, Dwight realises Frank is crying. He stares at the shaking shoulders and feels panic set in. The guy was a bit of an asshole yeah, hard to get along with and handsy but shit... Dwight couldn't imagine how he would act if he was homeless in a foreign country. Slowly he walks over to Frank, the muffled sniffles sounding so pitiful and hurt. Dwight felt his heart throb in empathy.

"Frank?" He says softly, resting a hand gently on his cold shoulder, "Hey its okay. I don't think you're going to rob me, hell I'm not even mad you tried to mug me. I think that you're a good person, you just...lifes been hard." Dwight says carefully. Not wanting to Frank's tears into anger.

Frank turns and practically tackles Dwight, arms wrapping around him with a crushing strength as he starts to sob. The sound muffled by him burying his face in Dwight's shoulder. He wraps his arms around Frank's shaking shoulders and pulls him close.

"Hey, hey its ok Frank. You can stay here as long as you need to, I'll help you get a job and get back on your feet. I promise." Dwight whispers to him gently, rubbing his back soothingly.

Frank nods, sobs fading away to quite hiccups and sniffles, "Th-thank you Dwight."

"Anytime, kid."

He holds onto Frank until the other pulls away. So long that the tears he shed had dried, and his face was no longer red. Dwight gives him a supportive smile, and Frank looks down in embarrassment. Pulling out of Dwight's arms and fidgeting with his sleeves.

"I uh...actually can't work...in America."

"What?"

Frank looks pointedly away, "I'm undocumented."

Dwight rubs his temples, and holds back a sigh. He didn't know why this was surprising to him, "Well shit."

Frank snorts, "Well I can always join an underground fight club and do bare knuckle brawls for money."

The fact that Dwight knew exactly who to talk to that could get Frank into that made him smile slightly. Not that he would let this idiot try that, he could barely rob someone without messing up.

"Don't worry about me, Dwight. You've done enough." Frank says with a grateful smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Dwight smiles back in return.

\---

"How do you like your eggs?" Frank asks from the kitchen.

Dwight washes the last bits of shaving cream off his face and dries his face, "Uh, sunny side up!"

"I only do scrambled." Frank replies.

"Then why the hell did you ask?" He snorts, tying his tie and making his way to the living room. There was something very cute about Frank destroying his kitchen trying to cook.

Yesterday they had worked out a good arrangement on how they would be staying together. Frank was pretty hell bent on getting out of his hair, a sweet gesture but Dwight didn't want him back on the street. After a lot of coaxing he managed to get Frank to agree to at least sleep at his place every now and then. Frank knew his schedule and when he'd be home, all he had to do was knock. Yeah, Dwight was a real sad fuck. So desperate for company he was going out of his way to keel Frank around instead of going out and making a real fucking friend. What asshole held room and bored over the head of a down and out kid for their company? His only solace was the fact that Frank seemed to like his company too.

"I was hoping you'd say scrambled." Frank admits, dumping some slightly burnt eggs on a plate. The toaster pops and Dwight grabs the bread, spreading jam on it and examining the eggs. They looked edible at least.

"Don't fucking judge me. No one ever taught me this shit " Frank huffs, turning the stove off and grabbing his plate.

"I'll teach you next time." Dwight overs, eating a few forkfuls of egg. It was the thought that counts. He spits an eggshell out in the sink. As he eats, Frank puts on his jackets and laces up his boots by the door. Guy was in a good mood.

"I get off work at one. If you want a ride back let me know at break." Dwight says, subtly dumping the eggs in the trash and setting the plate in the sink.

"Sure thing." Frank replies as Dwight slips his shoes on.

The drive to work is uneventful. He pulls into his usual spot and gets out of the car, locking it when Frank steps out. He can't help but worry a bit, letting the guy run around the city but hell he wasn't his dad. When they make it to the back entrance of the alley, Frank stops and turns to him. He looked leagues better than when he first came home with Dwight. Maybe it was just the fact he was seeing him in the day and not at night.

"Hey, thanks again Dwight."

"No problem."

Frank glances around quickly, biting his lip nervously before stepping up to Dwight and grabbing his necktie. Dwight lets himself get pulled down and Frank presses a light kiss to his lips. So innocent compared to all the shit he had been doing this weekend. Dwight's heart races as he pulls away, tie slipping through Frank's fingers as the man pulls away.

"See you." Frank says softly before all but running off. Dwight shakes his head, and hopes none of his coworkers saw that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: frank cant do crocodile tears but he makes do
> 
> Also updates might slow down i have a convention this weekend so yknow busy busy! (im being dwight and michael myers. And a few others but those are the fun ones)


	5. Oceanographer's Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter before i head off to con! The next one will probs be a bit, but itll come eventually
> 
> cw: self harm, dubious consent, manipulation, threats of violence, and erotic asphyxiation
> 
> Not in that order

Fall was slowly becoming winter, Dwight's least favorite season. He shivers in the cold breeze and pulls a sweater on over his shirt. He glances over to see Frank sitting pretty on the fire escape in an old shirt and ripped jeans. Completely ignoring the chilly air, smoking away. Fucking Canadians. Dwight sticks his head out the open window.

"I'm stopping by the office real quick, should be back in fifteen minutes. Need anything?"

Frank glances back at him, thinking for a moment before shrugging, "Can you pick me up a six pack?"

Dwight wasn't a big fan of Frank drinking, something he started doing after Dwight let slip that he was a lightweight.

"Sure."

"Drive safe. Nerd." Frank replies with a handwave.

He rolls his eyes and closes the window. Grabbing his bag and making his way downstairs to his car. Frank had been living with him on and off for about a month now. The guy would show up pretty much randomly at his doorstep or during break. Not that Dwight minded much, every time he saw the guy he felt a spike of joy. Sometimes Frank was in an off mood and pretty much took a shower, ate a few poptarts and took off again. But in general the guy stuck around, made conversation and attempted to get into his pants. Dwight had kept his distance a bit, shooing Frank's wandering hands away before he went too far and sleeping on the couch when he stayed the night. He could tell it was starting to get on the guys nerves, judging by the way he was pointedly ignoring him now. Either way, he was enjoying the situation quite a bit. Frank was good company, even of he was being bitchy and pouty. He drops the files off at the office, making a point to not get talked into staying on his day off.

It takes longer in the store than he expected, and by the time he pulls back into the apartment lot he's worried Frank had left. Something he likes to pull when he takes too long doing something. It was the first time he had seen Frank in two days, and he was pretty worried about him. Dwight unlocks the door and looks around. The window to the fire escape was firmly closed, and he couldn't see him out there. His boots were at the door though, so he must be in his room or something.

"Frank?" Dwight calls, setting the beer in the fridge and making his way down the hall.

Both the bathroom and his door were closed. Something he usually never did. Nervously he opens the door to his bedroom and looks inside. The lights were off, which he figures he must have done earlier. He's about to call Frank's name again when an arm wraps around his neck, and a cold sharp blade presses against his lower back.

"You're late." Frank whispers, causing him to shudder.

"Lady in front of me paid in exact change. Also you know I get ID'd all the time." Dwight replies, reaching behind him a shooing the knife away from his body, "Don't act like I'm never coming home again you baby." He chides.

Frank releases him and steps back, huffing slightly at the insult and stomping away. Dwight can't take the guy seriously when he tried to act tough while wearing his clothes. Speaking of he hoped Frank didn't poke another hole in his sweater, he really liked this blue one. Distantly he can hear Frank crack open a beer from the kitchen.

"Where have you been?" Dwight asks, opening the window and taking a seat as he lights up a cigarette. Leans against the window sill and closes his eyes. "Was starting to miss you."

"Out and about." Frank replies, vague as ever. Dwight can hear him toss a can in the trash and immediately open another, "You really miss me?" He adds.

"Mmmhmm." Dwight hums, not wanting to tell Frank how the walls seemed to eat him alive when he wasn't with someone. He should see a doctor.

"That's real sweet." Frank snaps, obviously not happy with the answer. Dwight shifts into damage control mode, didn't want Frank to stomp out on him.

"Besides it's getting cold..." Dwight says softly, leaving the rest of the statement to finish itself. He knew that would get Frank, he had been sure not to share the bed with him since that night and the guy was getting more and more gropey by the day.

Frank doesn't speak, and he hears a can drop into the trash can. Unsurprisingly another can is cracked.

"Not cold for me." He finally says. Dwight's surprised that he wasn't slurring despite being halfway through the six pack. Then again not everyone gets blackout on half a can like him.

"That's 'cause you're Canadian."

Frank laughs, and a can drops in the trash, "Got me there."

A cold breeze hits him, and he shivers slightly. Blowing smoke out the window and wondering if it was going to snow soon. He liked the snow, best part of winter. It muffled the world around him like a cold blanket. His thoughts of winter are interrupted by Frank sitting in his lap. Dwight opens his eyes and looks up curiously, wondering if Frank wanted to shotgun a cigarette again. There was a slight flush to the man's cheeks, Dwight loved the look. It brought out his scars. Although he did reek of beer, which was gross.

"Hey." Dwight greets, "Come here often?"

Frank doesn't laugh, his face is an impassive mask. Dwight swallows nervously, wondering what was running through Frank's head that got him so worked up. The man's head was a dark place, he was sure of it.

"Why do you want me around, Dwight?" Frank asks, obviously making an effort to keep his voice steady, "What do you want from me?"

Its obvious Frank wanted a real answer this time. He had been dodging the question for weeks now, not wanting to tell Frank the real and pitiful reason he allowed him to come and go. He couldn't hide it forever, it would probably have been better to just tell him outright a few weeks ago than let the situation fester.

"Company." Dwight replies evenly, "gets lonely around here..."

Frank frowns, "Are...are you serious?"

He shrugs, turning to look out the window and not Frank's face, "I am."

Silence falls and he can feel Frank's piercing eyes on him, and his anger growing. Frank's cold fingers grip his chin and forces Dwight to look at him. His heart starts to race.

"Then why won't you let me fuck you." Frank growls, anger dripping off his words, "Isn't that what you mean by company?"

Dwight stares at Frank in utter shock, he opens his mouth to say something in his defense but his mind comes up blank. Is that why Frank had hit on him? He thought Dwight wanted him as a...

"N-no jesus christ Frank I don't want you!"

The mans face falls, and Dwight knows he completely fucked up.

"N-no I mean I-I want you! You're a good looking guy and all! But I didn't bring you here expecting anything like that from you!"

Dwight can see the gears turning in Frank's head. He wishes he could move away from him, put some space between them in case he lashed out. Frank's hand darts out and he grabs the lit cigarette from Dwight's fingers. He watches in shock as Frank presses the burning end against the back of his other hand with a sickening sizzle

"Frank!" Dwight yells, grabbing the hand holding the cigarette and pulling it away. Frank doesn't struggle and he's able to take the dull cigarette from his fingers and toss it out the window before looking at the angry red skin of Frank's

hand, "What the fuck? Why did you do that?"

He looks up to see tears in the man blue eyes, "Why don't you want me, Dwight?"

Frank's voice is so soft and hurt, it cracks on the last syllable of his name. He feels a stab of guilt in his heart burning like acid. He lead this poor fucking kid on for no other reason than to keep him around longer. Because he was afraid if he let Frank have everything he wanted the guy would take it all then leave him alone.

"Frank..." He says softly, unsure how to make him feel better, "I...I do want you I just-"

"Then let me fuck you, hell you can fuck me I don't care." Frank says softly, bringing his cold hands up to grip Dwight's shoulders in desperation, "Please just...let me pay you back for all this, Dwight."

Dwight lets out a sigh, and reaches up to close the window. He wasn't going to let this happen, as bad as he felt for leading Frank on taking advantage of him getting intimate now wasn't going to make it any better.

"Let me up."

Frank stares down at him, eyes still wet and shiny with tears. Jaw set in defiance at the order.

"Frank, let me get my first aid kit." He says softly, "You're drunk, we're not going to do anything."

"I'm not drunk."

"You're buzzed."

Frank stands, wobbling on his feet slightly and walking into the kitchen. Dwight stands and watches him wash his hands in the sink for a moment before going and grabbing the first kit from the closet. He sets it on the counter and opens it, but before he can even start Frank walks up and grabs an ointment packet along with a gauze pad and bandages. Dwight watches helplessly as Frank applies the ointment and dresses the burn silently, refusing to look at him.

"Do you want a blow job?" Frank's asks after tying the bandage off with his teeth, "I'll swallow for you."

Dwight's stomach churns in disgust at the offer, "No Frank, I don't want you to do that. You don't have to do anything." He says gently.

Frank stares at the back of his hand, as if he could see through the gauze and look at his burn. There's absolutely nothing in his eyes.

"Maybe you should lie down..." Dwight suggests. Frank doesn't make a move to acknowledge he even spoke. His pale eyes just...stare.

"You can sleep in my bed." Dwight says, closing his eyes and trying to force the torrent of guilt and shame from drowning him by rubbing his temples.

He was never a strong swimmer.

"Only if you're in it."

He opens his eyes and looks at Frank, who's still staring at the bright white gauze.

"That's not a good idea."

Frank's eyes move away from his hand, and he glares at Dwight. The cold rage in the eyes makes him take a step back, then another one. Frank doesn't move. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to disengage himself from this situation that didn't involve setting Frank off or agreeing to sexual favors. He doesn't know what's worse, being alone in this house or suffering through a guilty blowjob. Maybe if he lets Frank fuck him the guy wouldn't leave so much. Or at least stay over every night instead of three times a week. And if he liked it that wasn't so bad right? It's not hurting anybody if they both enjoy it.

The man moves, and Dwight stiffens. He watches Frank walk towards him, in the same way a wolf would walk towards a stunned deer. Dwight takes another step back and hits the wall, utterly trapped. Frank's eyes trail over him, and he reaches behind his back. Stopping a few inches away from Dwight and gazing up into his eyes. He has to say something, he has to de escalate this before it's too late.

"Frank I-"

The hidden hand shoots out, and slams into the wall next to Dwight's head. He flinches, and looks over to see his face reflected in the metal surface of Frank's hunting knife. The gauze covered hand lets go of the handle, and the blade sticks upright in the wall.. Embedded at least in inch in the drywall. His gaze drifts to Frank, their eyes meet for a split second before the man turns and walks into Dwight's bedroom. Closing the door gently.

He wished he slammed it.

Dwight leans against the wall, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his knees presses to his chest. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about what just happened. He breaths in slowly, and the knife clatters to the floor. The sound causes him to flinch, and he looks over at the hunting knife sitting on the wooden floorboards. A blade that had almost been embedded in his eye socket. He shudders, hugging his knees close feeling a few tears trail down his cheek as the image of the knife blurs.

He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have lead Frank on like that. He thought the flirting, the chaste kiss in the ally and Frank always shotgunning his last cigarette were cute passes. He thought it was all just a game of cat and mouse. When it was Frank desperately trying not to go back to the street again. It was him playing into the wants of some stranger that offered him candy but only if he got in the van. Look what he did. Look what he fucking did. He made Frank hurt himself, he made him cry and feel ashamed for accepting help. What the fuck was his problem?

A sob rips out of Dwight's chest, and he bites his hand in an attempt to cover it. He hadn't cried like this in a long time, not since he was left in those woods by people he thought he could trust. But now, tears rush from his eyes and he can barely gasp through the sobs wracking his body. The door to his room remains firmly shut, and Dwight's only company is the cold hunting knife, shining dimly under the glow of lowering sun.

His sobs die down to muffled whimpers as the light fades, casting him into darkness. He picks the knife up, its heavy in his hand; cold and soulless. He stands on shaky legs and sets it next to the open first aid kit in the kitchen. He washes his face in the sink, and takes a few deep breaths to collect himself. Once he stops shaking, he slowly walks to his door and knocks.

"Frank?" He whispers, voice hoarse and raspy, "C-can I come in?"

There was silence behind the door, and Dwight carefully turns the knob and pushes it open. His room was dark, and silent as a grave. He can make out a vague lump on his bed that he assumes is Frank. Slowly he enters the room and closes the door and quietly as he can. He tiptoes over to his dresser and tugs his shirt off before picking a random shirt from his drawer to sleep in. He unbuckles his jeans, glancing behind him to see if Frank had moved before pulling his pants off and a pair of sweats on. He drops the clothing in the hamper, almost running to the door and grabbing the knob.

"Dwight?" Frank's sleepy voice pipes up from the bed, and he freezes in panic, "Come here."

He lets go of the door and obediently walks to the bed, setting his glasses on the night table before pulling the covers away and laying on his back. Frank immediately scoots over and draps an arm over his chest before nuzzling his neck. Dwight stays still, feeling the other man relax against his chest and drift off to sleep as if nothing happened. It's good that he slept through his breakdown. He didn't want Frank to feel guilty.

\---

Dwight falls into a restless sleep for a few hours, waking up long before the sun illuminates his room. He stares at the swirling darkness above, trying to focus on Frank's breathing and not the words exchanged earlier. He feels numb, and cold. Sometime after dawn Frank wakes up, he shuffles out of bed and to the bathroom. Returning a few minutes later and crawling back into bed, nestling in Dwight's arms.

"Morning..." Frank mumbles, fingers tracing indistinct patterns on his chest, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Dwight lies, bring a hand up to gently rub Frank's back, "Did you?"

Frank lets out a grumble, "A bit hungover, but I slept great with you around."

Dwight smiles, arms tightening around Frank's shoulders, "S-sorry about last night..."

Frank remains silent, and Dwight bites his lip. He didn't want to leave a problem unsolved, he knew that much.

"Do...do you want to...talk about it? I-I mean its ok if you-" He cuts off when Frank's gauze covered hand covers his mouth. Frank pushes himself up on his elbow and looks down at Dwight sternly.

"There's nothing to talk about Dwight. Unless you wanna fuck right now, then I'm all ears. Otherwise I don't wanna hear it."

Dwight's nods, dropping the subject immediately. Frank looks at him for a few more moments before taking his hand away.

"Good." Frank smiles, leaning in slowly. Dwight wonders if he's going to straddle his waist again, "So...wanna fuck?"

Dwight sighs, closing his eyes to avoid Frank's piercing stare. He felt so fucking tired, maybe Frank would leave him alone if he gave the guy what he wanted.

"What do you want?" Dwight asks, voice wavering slightly. He feels Frank perk up, happy he can't see what expressions he's making. Surely they'd make him sick.

"What do you want?" Frank shoots back, swinging a leg over Dwight and his familiar weight settles on top of him. He can feel Frank's hard dick through the loose fabric of the mans boxers.

"I don't care."

Frank's hands trail down his chest before sliding under his shirt, nails digging into his skin. Dwight shudders at the feeling.

"Come one, gimme something," Frank coos, hips rolling against his crotch slowly, "What do you want me to do to you?"

Dwight opens his eyes and looks at the blurry shape above him, "Pass me my glasses, please."

Frank stops moving, and reaches over to the nightstand, unfolding the legs and awkwardly putting them on Dwight's face. The frames are crooked. He brings a hand up and adjusts them, now that he was able to see Frank clearly he couldn't help but feel a bit better about this. He wasn't wearing a shirt again and just in his boxers, but he had a smile on his face that made Dwight's heart skip a beat. He notices a few tattoos on his legs, along with clusters of circular white scars dotting the inner, and tops of his thighs just below the hem of his boxers. Curiously, Dwight runs a finger over the marks.

"Are these-"

"Don't worry about them." Frank interrupts, grinding against Dwight's dick and managing to coax a small groan out of him, "We got more important things to do."

Dwight lays still and lets Frank pull his shirt up, awkwardly resting his palms on the man's thighs and squeezing gently. Frank's chronically freezing and rough hands drag along his stomach, fingers brushing over his nipples and pulling out a gasp from Dwight. Frank grins, and bucks his hips forward searching for the angle that would provide the most friction. He lets out a soft moan, and rocks his hips forward ever so slightly. Looking up at Frank to make sure he was ok with the movement. He watches Frank bite his lip and let out a strangled whine. Dwight hated to admit it, but he loved this sort of intimacy.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Dwight asks through a few heavy pants, impressed that his voice was clear despite Frank's steady grinding.

"W-what?" Frank replies, the word practically a moan.

He stares at Frank, his overgrown blond hair stuck out at odd angles, and his cheeks were flushed. Dwight had been with plenty of guys in the past, grinded on his fair share of dudes before getting railed in his dorm. That experience made the way Frank was moving unexpected.

"Are you a bottom?"

Frank freezes, staring down at him with a look of utter shock on his face, Dwight tries to hold back a grin at the expression.

"N-no." Frank snaps.

"You sure?" Dwight asks, bucking his hips up and receiving a sharp gasp of pleasure from Frank, "No offense but you're moving like you're riding my dick not grinding on it."

He watches Frank bite his lip and look away, "I-I've taken it more than I've...given. But It's not like-"

Dwight interrupts Frank again with a carefully timed roll of his hips. Frank clenches his jaw, trying to hold in his noises.

"Shut up. How the fuck would you even know?" Frank growls, feigning anger. Dwight runs his hands up the man's thighs before gripping his hips, guiding Frank's movements with a gentle tug. His frown melts as he holds back a moan.

"Do you really think I'm a virgin, Frank?" Dwight asks, moving one hand away to push himself into a sitting position. Frank's hands rest on his shoulders, he doesn't force Dwight down.

"Yeah, you look like a sad out of shape office worker who's never been fucked a day in his life." Frank replies, starting to sound a little rilled up at his words and playing defensive, "Am I wrong?"

Dwight shrugs, letting his hands run over Frank's body. Fingers dragging along the bumps of his spine, feeling the man shudder under his touch.

"Not wrong about the out of shape part, my cardio has seen better days," Dwight says thoughtfully, he rolls his hips up and Frank lets out a content sigh, "But I'm no virgin."

A sadistic smile comes to Frank's face, and he tips Dwight's chin up. Moving in and pressing his forehead against Dwight's, causing his glasses to press painfully against his nose.

"Are you gonna fuck me then office boy?" Frank whispers, want dripping off his words like water.

"I might."  Dwight whispers back, tilting his chin up until their lips barely brush. Frank hasn't kissed him since that day in the alley, and Dwight was hungry for more.

"You better." Frank growls before pressing his lips against Dwight's so hard he's forced back, head slamming into the wall.

Dwight kisses back with as much enthusiasm, he tangles his hand in Frank's hair and grabs his waist with his other. Dragging Frank forward and bucking his hips up, causing him to moan into the kiss. He runs his tongue over Frank's lips, tasting bitter tobacco and beer. Frank opens his mouth and sucks Dwight's tongue, the sensation was weird but good. He tastes a metallic tang and wonders if Frank was bleeding.

He turns his head away to get a breath, only able to gasp softly before Frank's lips are on his. Teeth scraping and biting his lip with a fervor, he opens his mouth and lets Frank shove his tongue in his mouth. Something metal bangs against his tooth, and Frank's tongue practically slides down his damn throat. Dwight chokes on a moan and tugs on Frank's hair, pulling him back so he can breath. Frank has a wild look in his eyes, lips shiny and red from the bruising kisses.

"Do you have a tongue ring?" Dwight asks through pants. Frank responds by slowly sticking his tongue out to reveal a shiny silver ball.

"Got it a few weeks ago. You like it?" Frank asks, still slightly breathless, "Hear they feel real nice on your co-"

Dwight tugs Frank's hair roughly, causing him to cut off his statement with a needy whimper. He isn't surprised that Frank likes being rough, considering that's his entire personality. Dwight was no prude, but pain was the last thing he wanted to cause or feel during sex.

"Don't want that, eh?" Frank teases, rolling his hips forward, "That's fine, Dwighty. What do you want then?"

Dwight releases Frank's hair, and the man leans forward to press a few light kisses to his neck before running his tongue up Dwight's jugular. He feels Frank's light breath on his ear, and lets out a pleasured sigh.

"How about I ride you cock until I scream. That sound good?" Frank whispers in his ear, punctuating his offer with a jerk of his hips. Dwight bits his lip, and whimpers at Frank's word.

"Is that a yes?" Frank presses, running a hand down Dwight's chest to palm his dick through his sweats. Dwight lets out a needy moan and rolls his hips forward.

"Would you like that?" Dwight asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

Frank's teeth scrape against his neck moments before he bites down hard. Dwight let's out a small yelp of pain as Frank sucks the spot before pulling away and grinning at Dwight.

"I want nothing more than to get fucked by you, Office boy."

Dwight gulps, and leans over to open the bottom drawer of his nightstand. He digs out the box of condoms and lube, setting them on the top of the nightstand while Frank makes quick work of his boxers. Dwight opens the lube cap as Frank settles back on his lap, tugging Dwight's pants and boxers down enough to free his dick. He lets out a hiss when Frank grabs his cock and strokes him roughly.

"Frank, can you be a little more gentle." Dwight asks, spreading lube over his fingers.

"Right hands out of commission, you're getting a non dominant handy."

He glances at the bandaged hand, feeling stab of guilt as he remembers Frank's desperate pleas last night.

"Frank." He says carefully, resting his unlubed hand on Frank's upper bicep to stop his awful handjob, "You don't have to do this to stay here, or make me feel better. I care about you, and I want you to be safe."

A strange cloud of emotion passes over Frank's face. He looks confused, almost scared at the words. Dwight had never seen such an expression on Frank before.

"My apartment is open for you to stay no matter what, you don't have to earn your welcome. Y-you're my friend." He adds, hoping Frank would say something.

Slowly Frank leans forward, and presses a light kiss to his lips, "Thank you Dwight."

Dwight smiles, then runs a hand down Frank's back. He feels the man tense slightly under his hand, he brings his hands up and rests them on Dwight's shoulders before nuzzling into his neck. As gently as possible he presses a finger into Frank, waiting for the man to relax against him before pressing another one in and stretching him. He can feel Frank panting against his neck, letting out small moans as he bites and sucks at the soft skin. He waits until Frank starts rocking back against his fingers to press a third one in.

"Fuck me already." Frank growls, sitting up and shooing Dwight's hand away.

"Are you ready?" He asks, reaching for the box of condoms only to have them smacked away, "Frank I'm no-"

"I'm allergic to latex."

Dwight looks up at him, watching the guy squeeze half a bottle of lube on his unbandaged hand before slathering it all over Dwight's dick. He yelps at the chill, causing Frank to roll his eyes.

"Don't be a baby." Frank chides, gripping his dick firmly and positioning himself over it "I'll let you cum inside me."

Dwight rolls his eyes, "You say that as if you don't want th-" He cuts off when Frank unceremoniously lowers himself onto his cock and lets out a loud moan.

"Fuck." Dwight mumbles, letting his head fall back against the wall as he moans. He rests his hands on Frank's hips as the guy shifts a bit, coaxing out a few pants from Dwight. He opens his eyes to see Frank in a similar state of pleasure. Cheeks flushed red and panting slightly and he gently rocks his hips forward.

Frank raises himself up a few inches before sinking down on Dwight's cock, letting out another loud moan as he starts to move at a slow place. Dwight bites his lip to hold back most of his noises, considering Frank was moaning loud enough for the both of them. He gasps in pain and Frank rakes his nails down his chest, that gasp turning into a groan of pleasure when Frank starts riding him faster.

"Choke me."

"W-what?" Dwight stares up at Frank in shocks wondering if he heard right. Frank grabs Dwight's hand and pulls it up, resting it against his throat. His movements slow down to an agonizingly slow roll off his hips, and he can feel the others pulse under his fingers.

"Choke me, Dwight." Frank orders, "Just a little."

He absolutely does not want to do that. He tries to pull his hand away, but Frank grips his wrist. Digging his nails into the tender flesh.

"I won't do it to you, I promise. Just squeeze a little. I'll let you know when to stop." Frank pleads, the same dejected look coming over his face. Dwight gives in, and squeezes.

Franks movements immediately speed up, barely audible moans escape his mouth as he moves against Dwight. He watches Frank's face turn a flushed red and stops squeezing. Frank gasps for air, shuddering in pleasure before fixing Dwight with a glare. He slams his other hand against the wall, right next to his face and Dwight flinches. Frank leans forward, other hand holding his wrist firmly.

"Don't fucking stop until I tell you to."

He nods, and squeezes again. A look of euphoria replaces the rage and Frank smiles at him. It doesn't make him feel any less disgusting as he rolls his hips up and listens to Frank's breathless whines. He closes his eyes, and tries to ignore the pain in his hand as he squeezes. Frank taps the hand at his throat twice, and he relents. Listening to Frank gasp and moan before begging to be choked again.

He's relieved when Frank cums, most of it spraying over his shirt. A few more thrusts and Dwight comes too, with significantly less mess. Dwight lets his hand fall away from Frank's throat, revealing a mocking skull grinning at him. Frank pants softly above him, trying to catch his breath. Dwight looks down at the mess between them, and absently traces one of Frank's leg tattoos. A black and white chain of barbed wire encircling his leg like a garter.

"You want first shower?" Frank offers, voice raspy and harsh, "I could use a smoke."

"Yeah."

Frank rolls off him, find his boxers on the ground and putting them on. He yawns and turns to Dwight with a grin, "Wish you didn't hold out on me for a month. You're a good kisser."He winks and walks out of the room with a slight limp.

He holds himself together until he gets to the bathroom. Stripping out of his soiled clothing and almost managing to avoid the mirror, and the sight of his neck marred with bites and bruises. The warm water makes him feel better, so he turns it hotter.

Its ok if Frank wanted to do that. He enjoyed most of it, so it's fine. Not everyone was some sap who wanted the first time with someone they actually cared about being a little special and maybe gentler. He was being selfish, Frank had let him do things his way it's only fair he lets Frank enjoy it too. He asked for it, begged him to do it. And he did, he really did want to be intimate with Frank but maybe not...like that.

At least Frank said he wasn't going to hurt him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to always ask your partner if their ok in participating in any kinks you have! If they look visably uncomfortable dont force them, and if your partner is pressuring you into things you don't wanna do try to discuss it with them, or seek outside help. Relationships are a two way street teens.


	6. Game Shows Touch our Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again ft. A certain asshole.

Dwight tightens his tie, and glances at his watch. He hated having to go in early, even though earlier to him was nine. He looks in the mirror and tugs the collar of his button up over the dark hickey on his neck. He had to ask Frank to keep marks lower next time. Though he shudders at the thought of their next time. He exits the bathroom, peeking into the bedroom to see Frank sound asleep. The sight makes him smile. He leaves the door open a crack and continues down the hall, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he closes and locks the front door. He makes his way downstairs, waving at his lower floor neighbours as he passes. The sun was bright above but that didn't dull the bitter chill in the air. Dwight's happy he decided to go with his sweater again, it keeps the chill out since his car heater is on the fritz.

He hates being at the office early, smiling awkwardly at the coworkers he utterly fucking despises as he make his way to his desk. Sitting heavily and pulling out a folder of papers for the meeting and shifting through them. He could probably get away with only saying a few things and mostly remaining silent and aloof. Maybe he could even figure out a way to get out of his shift early too.

"Blimey, you're here early."

Dwight holds in a sigh and turns to face David. He had a complicated relationship with the guy. He was the second shift security, and they liked to give each other a hard time when they passed. David commenting on if he was going to become the new Edmond Post and Dwight smiling serenely at him. He was the best part in this office.

"Only because of my deep love for the company." Dwight replies. David snorts, leaning against the wall of his cubicle.

"Actually I was hopin' to see you today. Since it's-"

"Oh wait I have something for you." Dwight interrupts, knowing David hated when he did that. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a yellow envelope with David's name on the back, holding it out to him.

David takes it and passes Dwight a similar cream colored envelope with his name on the back. Dwight frowns at the card as David opens his, laughing slightly at the contents.

"Got my age wrong you twat." David chides.

Dwight ignores him in favor of opening his envelope pulling out a very plain looking card that simply said Happy birthday on the front. Inside was a David's neat cursive that told him he was getting old and a bill with the placid smirk of Queen Elizabeth.

"Y-you got me a card?" Dwight asks, unsure how to feel about the gesture. He worked here a literal decade and no one had ever gotten him anything, "You remembered my birthday?"

"We have the same fucking birthday you idiot." David replies, managing to make Dwight feel a twist in his stomach, "'Sides look who remembered mine? Thought you were official diagnosed with memory loss in your old age."

Dwight rolls his eyes and sets the card aside, looking up at David and trying not to feel fond of the prick, "You know I can't use that twenty."

David smirks, "Oh I know."

"You're a real asshole, go back to your country."

The man laughs at that, "Oh you fuckin' wish I'd leave you alone. Hey speakin of if you ain't busy I was figurin' after your shift we could swing by a pub- bar or whatever and have a few birthday rounds."

Dwight raises his eyebrows at David, trying to read ill will in the man's expression. The guy had only been working here for two years, he probably didn't know about the last time Dwight went out. Or maybe he did, the other guys still acted like it was the funniest fucking thing in the world. He had better things to do that watch David get drunk.

"Thank you but-"

"Aw c'mon Fairfield it's not that big of a deal! You can't start your thirties sober now can you?" David presses.

He very well could live the rest of his life sober as a judge and be pretty damn content.

"I uh, actually have...plans with someone else."

David's leans in, dropping his voice a few octaves so as not to alert his cubicle neighbors. Not that they'd care.

"Same guy who gave you that?" He asks, looking pointedly at Dwight's neck. He immediately pulls his collar up, feeling a rush of heat to his face. Unfortunately that serves as an answer for David and he laughs, patting Dwight's shoulder.

"I'm so proud, finally getting out there and having fun. Never to old, innit?" David leans in closer, "He someone I would know?"

"No."

"Ooh, let me guess you took it? What's he look like? C'mon spill the beans."

Dwight wishes he could break David's nose again, instead he gives him a serene smile, "That's personal information, King. Keep talking and HR might have to talk to you."

David snickers, but pulls away. He at least knew not to push his luck too much when he was on the job.

"If you change your mind feel free to tell me, or drop by the Willard. First rounds on me, and bring your boy toy love to meet him. Cheers!"

Dwight flips David off as he walks away before turning back to his desk. God he hated the guy. He looks down at the card and smiles, putting it in his bag like a special secret. He wonders if he should take David up on that offer. He obviously wouldn't be drinking, but maybe Frank would enjoy it. As much as he didn't want David telling the kid about his back alley brawls he felt like they would get along. Nervously he tugs his collar up and hopes that his love bites aren't showing. David went easy on him, but he knew that others would give him a harder time. By the time the meeting starts, and after he's said his piece Dwight decides to take David up on his offer. If Frank was willing of course, a night out might be good for him.

The meeting ends without much fanfare, he's given a large portion of work compared to his cubicle mates, but that's normal. More of an excuse to put his head down and ignore his team mates. Which he does for the mind numbing and boring rest of the day, managing to get just enough done to leave early without putting himself under the lens of his supervisor. He smiles as he heads out to his break, planning to clock out immediately after. The alley is empty and cold, the bricks of the building sap heat out of him steadily and he shivers. He hears the scuff a boot and perks up, turning to look down the alley to sew...David. Disappointment floods his system, at it much show as David's easy going smile fades to a look of bemusement.

"Expectin' someone else?" The man asks, stopping a few feet away from him. Dwight exhales a cloud of smoke and nods.

"Yeah actually, kinda was."

"Sorry then mate, you got me."

Dwight rolls his eyes, and before he can lament his luck David speaks again.

"Figured I should ask if you were gonna take me up on my offer. No pressure of course." David offers, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as a chilly wind blows by.

"I might, gonna ask F-Frank if he wants to come then meet you there." Dwight clears his throat and takes a drag of his cigarette to buy time. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable telling people about Frank yet. If David has a strong reaction he doesn't show it.

"See you then, birthday boy." David says, turning to make his way out of the ally, "Also, things'll kill you someday."

Dwight looks at the half spent cigarette in his hands, and the amber flames burning at the tobacco inside. He stubs it out on the wall and tosses it aside.

"Let's hope." He mumbled to himself, turning back inside to clock out.

\----

He unlocks his door and kicks his shoes off next to Frank's. The man was in the kitchen, making a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Hey Dwight, you want one?" He offers, glancing up for a moment.

"I'm good, thank you." Dwight replies, beelining to his room.

He loosens his tie and takes the card from his bag, setting it on his desk with a smile. He really was touched David had bothered to get him a card, no one except his parents bothered to get him one most of the time and after they died the cards just stopped coming. Not that he made a huge deal about his birthdays anyway, living alone for so long he stopped celebrating them altogether. Maybe he should go out for change, now that he wasn't alone anymore. As long as Frank wanted to. Dwight walks down the hall, stopping in the kitchen doorway. Frank was sitting on the counter eating his sandwich with a vacant look in his eyes. It takes him a full minute of looking at Dwight to even say anything.

"Hey Dwight, You want one?" Frank asks, raising his toasted sandwich.

"No thank you. Are you uh, busy later?" Dwight asks, tilting his head at Frank curiously. He had never seen the man act so out of it.

"Nah." Frank replies, taking a slow bite of his sandwich, "Why?"

"A uh, co-worker is celebrating his birthday today. Just a few drinks and stuff." He says, walking over to Frank and pressing the back of his hand to the man's forehead, "You feelin' ok? Catch a cold?"

Frank pulls back slightly, "Huh? I'm fine just..." He shrugs, waving Dwight's hand away, "I wanna go sounds fun."

He steps back so Frank can hop off the counter. The man stumbles slightly and Dwight catches his shoulder to keep him from falling. As soon as Frank rights himself he shrugs Dwight's hand off before shuffling off to change into his own shirt no doubt.

"Hope you're not wearing that. You look like a dork." Frank calls from the bedroom. Dwight looks down and shrugs, he wasn't too concerned about his sense of fashion.

He sends David a text letting him know they would meet him soon before putting his shoes back on. Frank comes out a few minutes later, minus a sandwich and wearing his jacket. He watches him lace up his boots before they head out to the car, Frank was noticeably silent. It was probably nothing but part of him worried if Frank was getting sick. Maybe it would be better for them to stay home.

"If you're not feeling well we can go-"

"I'm fucking fine. Lay off." Frank snaps, looking pointedly out the window.

Dwight nods, and drives the rest of the way to the bar in silence. When he parks Frank gets out of the car and slams the door. Dwight closes his own door and smiles nervously at Frank, who thankfully smiles back immediately putting Dwight at ease.

"I uh, think you'll like David. He's uh, British?"

"What's he doin' here then?" Frank asks.

"I dunno, never really asked." Dwight admits, holding the door open for Frank and following him inside.

He looks around and spots David leaning against the bar and chatting with the bartender, it was pretty full too. Plenty of people talking and a dancefloor with a few couples dancing. Dwight gently taps Frank's arm and motions for him to follow, he didn't want the guy to wander off.

"David!" He calls once the get closer. The other perks up and smiles, raising a hand in greeting as Dwight approaches.

"Hey Dwight, didn't even change you shirt huh?" David teases before looking over at Frank, "This your boy toy?"

Dwight glances nervously at Frank, happy to see a smile on his face and not anger. It was a blessing he never had to introduce Frank to anyone seeing as he had no friends.

"Guess I am. Names Frank, David eh?" Frank says, leaning against the bar too. His eyes trail over David and Dwight nervously plays with his finger, "Happy Birthday."

David waves the compliment away, standing up straight, "Let's skip this small shit and get to drinkin'. First rounds on me!"

Dwight smiles nervously, letting Frank and David order their drinks before awkwardly asking for a Shirley Temple when they get out of earshot. He really didn't want to get drunk ever again, especially not around David and Frank. Dwight takes his drink and follows them to a table, hopping up on a stool and letting them chat. He sips at his drink, letting his eyes wander around the bar, vaguely listening to whatever the two were talking about. This was nice. He was out, having a vague social life. No woods for him to get left in.

"Dwight, what do you want?" David asks loudly. He jumps and turns to look at the man.

"W-what?"

"To eat you slag, don't even try an pay for either it's a gift." David insists, shoving a menu into Dwight's hand.

He flips through the pages, settling on potato wedges and mozzarella sticks. Frank asks for nachos and David collects the menus before going to the front to order.

"Thought you didn't drink." Frank says, reaching over and slides Dwight's drink over to himself and taking a sip. He frowns and looks at Dwight curiously, "Fuck is this?"

"Shirley Temple."

Frank snorts, sliding the drink back and taking a sip of his own dark drink, "Pussy."

"Fuck off. I'm the designated driver." Dwight shoots back, glancing at the bar to see David watching them. He waves awkwardly and David waves back, holding up five fingers. He assumes that means five minutes for the food.

Frank's cold hand touches his leg and he jumps. Turning to look at Frank as he digs his nails into Dwight's leg, he holds back a wince.

"So, what's David's deal? How do you know him?" Frank asks, voice dropping a few octaves menacingly.

"H-he's the security guard! We work slightly different shifts and uh, talk sometimes. We're not that close."

Frank tilts his head, "Anything you're not telling me?"

Dwight wrings his hands, looking down at the table. He wasn't hiding anything, right? No of course not, that was dumb. He looks back to Frank and shoots him an easy smile.

"No, why?"

Frank glares at him, and before he can open his mouth David sets a tray on the table. Frank yanks his hand away from Dwight's leg and thanks David, pulling his nachos closer.

"Thank you David!" Dwight says, eating a potato wedge.

"Ain't nothin'. Also the fuck are you drinking?"

He feels a blush rise to his face and sips his drink, might as well own up now.

"Shirley Temple."

"Pussy." David says immediately. Dwight snorts.

"You really aren't gonna have one drink? It's your birthday."

He can practically feel Frank's eyes on him, and shrugs. Keeping his eyes glued to the table instead of looking at either of them. David must not know

"I uh, have a low alcohol tolerance. Like comically low. And I have to drive us home! D-Don't worry about it!"

David laughs, "Shit you shoulda said somethin'. We could've gone to a restaurant."

Frank slams his hands down on the table, and all the warmth drains from Dwight's body. He flinches and looks up to see Frank fixing David with a burning glare. He notices Frank's glass is already empty and the look in his eyes is dangers.

"Hey why not lay the fuck off Dwight, eh?"

David tilts his head, and he meets Frank's gaze with equally cold eyes. Ke knew David had a hair trigger temper, and got into fights for fun. He wasn't going to de escalate this situation.

"Got a problem with it, Canuk?"

He sees Frank's hand twitch, and stands up. Dwight wasn't keen on putting himself in between the two, but he didn't want them to make a scene.

"Frank its-"

"Shut the fuck up Dwight." Frank snaps, "And yeah I do have a fucking problem with it Brit. He's mine."

David's eyes seem to harden, and he stands. The man has a good three inches on Dwight and he towers over Frank even from across the table.

"Oi don't talk to your fucken' boyfriend like that you cunt." David growls, slowly rounding the table towards Frank.

"Hey stop it's-"

"I said shut the  **fuck** up, Dwight!

Frank growls, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Dwight rushes forward, pressing a hand to Frank's chest and physically shoving him away so he can fit in between them. He turns to David, taking a breath to tell him to calm down when pain blooms across his chin and the world goes black.

\---

"-et the fuck away from him!"

Dwight groans and opens his eyes. The world above him is spinning and blurry. He reaches up and gently touches his face only to find his glasses are missing.

"Where are my glasses?" He asks softly. The blurry figure above him moves out of sight before coming back into view. He feels the heavy frames slide on his face and Frank comes into view. He reaches up and adjusts them before pushing himself into a sitting position.

Frank grabs his arm and pulls him up, he stumbles and leans heavily on Frank's shoulder. He can hear shouting next to him as Frank starts to drag him away.

"What happened?" Dwight slurs, stumbling awkwardly along with him. People step aside as they pass and Dwight remembers what happened.

"That stupid fuck hit you. We're fucking going." Frank snaps, concern in his voice.

"B-because of you." Dwight mumblrs, shivering as they leave the bar into the cold air. It feels nice on his swollen lips and sore jaw.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Frank drags him to the car and pats his pockets down for the keys, he unlocks the door and forces Dwight to sit in the driver's seat.

"He knocked you the fuck out."

"I figured." Dwight says, sitting back in the car seat and closing the door. Frank jogs around the side and sits in the passenger seat. Dwight takes a moment to collect himself before starting the car. He would have to make it up to David soon. 

Frank is silent, and Dwight doesn't know what to say. He drives home without saying anything else. When they get to the apartment Dwight beelines to the bathroom, looking at his bleeding lip and bruised jaw in the mirror. One hell of a birthday, huh? He splashed some water on his face, and when he looks up he can see Frank's reflection in the mirror. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and staring at the floor.

"You tried to pull a knife on him." Dwight says soft, lisping through his busted lip.

"He was going to hit me." Frank replies, voice steady.

Dwight turns away from the mirror and walks up to Frank. Carefully he takes Frank's chin and tilts his head up gently, staring into his blue eyes. And noticeably dilated pupils.

"Are you on drugs?"

Frank jerks his face away and steps back. Anger flashing on his face for a split second.

"Hey, I'm not mad I just..." Dwight says, raising his hands in defense, "I just...figured I should ask?"

Franks rubs his arm and looks down, almost guilty as he nods.

"What is it?" Dwight asks, reaching out and gently resting a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"Spice."

He nods, trying to remember what that drug is and does. Either way he knows it probably doesn't mesh well with alcohol.

"I-its synthetic weed. Essentially." Frank adds, relaxing at Dwight's touch, "Sorry look I don't...usually do drugs and shit they make feel weird and have uh-."

"Its ok Frank you don't have to tell me about it."

Slowly, almost uncertainly, Frank wraps his arms around Dwight. Burying his face in Dwight's neck. He wraps his arms around Frank and gently pats his back.

"I'm sorry Dwight." Frank whispers.

Any anger left in his system at Frank for tonight drain away, and he hugged the man harder. He shouldn't have gone out tonight. He should have stayed home with Frank.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" Frank asks softly.

"It wasn't really important."

"I would've gotten you a gift..."

Dwight shrugs, pulling away and smiling down at Frank, "Don't worry about it. You don't owe me anything."

Frank nods, and holds Dwight closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not end with kingfield david just wants to be nice


	7. International Small Arms Traffic Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: implied self harm and child abuse
> 
> In the home stretch of this bad boy, one chapter left

Dwight was having a hell of a time figuring out how to apologize to David for the incident two weeks ago. How does one even breach that subject? Sorry my pseudo-boyfriend tried to attack you at a bar on your birthday for talking to me, he was on drugs and they don't mix well with alcohol you know how it is? No hard feelings right? That was awful and stupid. Maybe he should get another card. Sorry my not boyfriend tried to stab you. Perfect. He would love it.

He steps out of the office building, wrapping his scarf tighter and making his way over to the coffee shop across the street. He can make out David's form through the window and prepares for the worst. It was the guys first day back after his vacation home for his birthday, and the first chance he had for apologizing. The bell of the cafe chimes and he stomps the snow off his shoes, making his way to the table David was sitting at.

"Hey." Dwight begins awkwardly, not wanting to sit down but feeling weird standing up. He shoves his hands in his pockets, "You uh, busy?"

David looks up at him, eyebrows raising, "Can't say I am."

"I-I uh wanted to apologize for h-how Frank acted at the bar a few weeks ago. He's uh, well he can be intense and likes to fight b-"

"I don't want your apology, Fairfield. S'not your fault." David's eyes drifts from the crack on his glasses to the still healing cut on his lip and winces, "Sorry about the knock to your head. Wasn't aiming for you."

"I figured." Dwight shrugs, "I-is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

David snorts and shakes his head, "You worry too much, Fairfield. I'm not mad."

Dwight relaxes slightly, happy David isn't actually upset at him and Frank. Then again he had a while to get over it. He would probably get David a coffee anyway to make it up to him.

"Actually Fairfield I do want to ask you about that guy...Frank?"

He tenses slightly, and crosses his arms nervously, "What about him?"

"You two been dating a while?"

"Uh...a bit...a-about a month?" Dwight says, trying not to sound like he was lying.

"Know each other long?" David presses, watching Dwight carefully.

"Why are you asking?" Dwight deflects, not wanting to admit the details of his relationship to David.

"He seemed...a bit off. Kinda..." David waves a hand for emphasis, "Intense? Didn't know it was your birthday."

He bristles at what David was implying. He glares at him, and stays resolutely silent. David shrugs and takes a sip of his drink before speaking.

"He shouldn't talk to you like that. I know your a doormat but c'mon man that shit ain't right."

Dwight turns around and walks out of the coffee shop. He can feel David's eyes on him as he crosses the street back towards the office, beelining to the alley in the back and out of sight. He didn't want to hear David's opinions on Frank. He didn't know what they were, he was just judging based on a few things Frank said while upset. He didn't realize just how much Frank was going through, how much trauma the guy was dealing with. Dwight had to be there for him, he was all Frank had anymore.

The alley is empty except for a few prints in the snow.

\---

When he rounds the corner of the hall to his apartment he sees Frank sitting in front of the door, leaning against the wood with his eyes closed. He looked relaxed, almost asleep. There's no signs of snow or ice on Frank's clothing, implying he had been there for a while. He really should get around to getting Frank a key since he had been coming and going a lot more.

"Get locked out?" Dwight asks, walking up to the door and shifting the bag of groceries to his arm to unlock the door.

Frank looks up at him and nods before getting to his feet. Dwight notices he was holding a backpack he had never seen before. He doesn't give it much thought, instead opening the door and kicking his shoes off before making his way to the kitchen to put groceries away. He can hear Frank moving around behind him and the clinking of cups.

"How was your day?" Dwight asks cheerfully, setting the eggs in the fridge and turning around to see Frank already opening the jug of orange juice.

"Saw you talking to David." Frank replies, filling the glass a quarter full of juice before setting it down.

"What?"

"During your break. Came to see you, but you were pretty fucking occupied, eh?" Frank says, bitterness in his tone as pulls a bottle of vodka from the bag and filling the rest of the cup.

Dwight swallows, and puts the juice into the fridge, "Ah yeah. I wanted to apologize for the bar stuff. The guys an asshole so I didn't stick around." He replies carefully.

"Huh. What he say."

"Just...kinda being an asshole. Nothing specific."

He hears Frank take a sip of his mixed drink, mulling over the answer. Dwight didn't want to be too specific, he didn't think Frank would take David's opinion of him very well. Lots of things were setting Frank off these days. He puts the crackers away and turns to Frank, figuring he should try and make him feel better if he could.

"What's on your mind?"

Frank swirls the juice in the cup, frowning in thought before taking a sip and making a face.

"I...called back home again and my...friends blew me off." He admits with a deep sigh, "We haven't really talked in...five or so years and they just...keep fucking ignoring me." Frank growls, draining half the cup before grabbing the bottle and refilling it.

Dwight hadn't been able to get much out of Frank and his past. He didn't want to pry into something that obviously hurt him, but he did want to know since it affected him too. Frank's mood swings had been getting more and more violent. Of course he trusted Frank to never hit him, but the only thing that ever seemed to lift Frank's mood was sex. Something he was feeling worse and worse about as Frank got more...intense in bed.

"Did you guys leave on bad terms?" He asks, watching as Frank downs half of the mostly clear mixed drink with vigor. Frank grunts, setting the half empty cup on the counter and grabbing the bottle. He stumbles away from the kitchen and sits heavily on the couch with a sigh.

"Kinda. I left without warning, stuff was getting rough with Clive and I just...couldn't fucking deal with it, eh?"

Dwight follows him to the living room, sitting next to him on the couch and watching him drink directly from the bottle. He wasn't slurring yet, but he didn't doubt it was coming.

"Clive?"

"Foster dad. He was alright, better than the last few I had but he..." Frank stops, biting his lip and staring at the floor, "Stuff was getting bad between us."

Dwight nods, reaching over to pat Frank's leg, "You don't have to talk about specifics if you don't want to."

Frank swirls the bottle, and takes a long swig before setting it down on the table. Dwight watches with growing worry as Frank unbuttons his pants and tugs them down to his knees.

"I used to have a foster dad, my second one after my dad fucked off and mom OD'd, he was a huge fucking...bastard." Frank says, starting to slur his words. He scoots closer and pulls the hem of his boxers up, "See these?"

Dwight looks at the now familiar scars on Frank's thighs and nods.

"He used to put his cigarettes out on my legs. Just fucking...." Frank mimes pressing a cigarette to his leg and snorts bitterly, "What a fucking asshole. Got outta there real fast but...well...things happen."

He reaches out and runs his fingers over the bumpy skin, feeling his heart throb in sadness for Frank, "I'm sorry."

Frank shrugs, "My friends...in Ormond helped me get outta that cycle. We did stupid shit to others and ourselves but not like...y'know this." He says, gesturing to his legs.

"Guess I didn't fucking matter to them after all." Frank mumbles, pulling his pants up over the scars.

Dwight crawls across the couch and pulls Frank into a hug, awkwardly sitting on his lap to do that, "Lots of things can happen after so many years, maybe they're just...busy."

Frank nods meekly against his chest, and Dwight hugs him tighter before pulling away, "I care, no matter what."

Frank smiles, and leans forward to grab the bottle of vodka from the table. He takes a swig, then holds the bottle up to Dwight.

"I don't-"

"Please. Just a little..." Frank says softly, "For me?"

Dwight stares at the clear liquid in the bottle, then to Frank's face. He had just told him something incredibly personal and no doubt hard to stomach. The only reason he had even said such a thing was because he was tipsy. It wouldn't be that big of a deal...

He wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle and takes it in his hand. Its plastic and surprisingly light, considering Frank had drank most of the bottle. He takes a breath and drinks a gulp of the bitter liquid. Almost spitting it out immediately, the drink burns his throat as he forces it down with a gag. He doesn't see the smile on Frank's face.

"Wasn't too bad, eh?"

Dwight winces and forces the bottle into Frank's hand. Starting to feel light and airy as the liquor burns through him. He coughs a bit and swallows again, wincing at the aftertaste.

"It's fucking awful." Dwight says, tongue already feeling thick in his mouth, "I'm not drinking more."

Frank laugh, and takes one last drink before capping the bottle and dropping it onto the floor. He feels heavy and tired, leaning forward and resting against Frank's shoulder. Feeling the others cold hands run over his back distantly.

"Dwight, can we do something different tonight?" Frank asks, voice low.

"Hmm?" Dwight hums, nuzzling Frank's neck and breathing in the smell of cheap alcohol, leather and his soaps mixed with Frank's sweat. It was nice.

"Wanna tie me up?"

He runs his fingers down Frank's arm, feeling the texture of the mans leather jacket like it was the first time he had ever felt it. It takes a few moments for him to process what Frank had said.

"No I really just wanna...cuddle." Dwight mumbles, "I don't like the rough stuff, Frank. I've told you."

He feels the man shift under him, his hands moving up his chest and resting on his shoulders. He relaxes at the touch and unzips Frank's jacket to wrap his arms around the mans warm torso. Cuddling closer to Frank with a contented sigh. Then Frank's hands grip his shoulders, and shoves him off his lap. Pain blooms on the back of his head as it collides with the edge coffee table. He lets out a groan of pain and struggles into a sitting position, gently touching the back of his head and feeling warm blood. There's a grinding of wood as Frank kicks the coffee table away, the man looks down at him and Dwight tries to back away. Limbs feeling heavy and useless. Frank's stands over him for a moment before crouching down and glaring at him. Dwight can see a glaze of drunkenness in his eyes, and starts to panic. He watches as Frank grabs the bottle and turns back to him.

"Frank? W-what did I do?" Dwight asks, sitting up and trying to clear his head, "We can still f-fuck but I just don't wanna do-"

Frank's hand wraps around his neck, and Dwight stops talking. He swallows nervously as Frank runs a thumb over his jugular.

"I thought you cared about me Dwight." Frank says thoughtfully, unscrewing the lid of the bottle with his free hand, "Unlike my other friends."

"I do care about you I just..."

He gasps in shock as Frank upends the bottle of vodka over his head. Dwight lets out a whine of pain as the liquid burns the cut on his scalp and runs down his face and chest. The disgusting smell fills his nose and he coughs, eyes tearing up as the fumes irritate his face. The hand at his throat shoves him back, his head bashes against the floor and he groans in pain as the cut is irritated further.

Frank stands, and he steps over Dwight towards the door. Panic floods his system and he struggles to his feet, slipping on the vodka that had dripped to the floor. His hand darts out and barely catches Frank's jacket in time.

"Please don't leave. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-to do that I- we can do whatever you want just...please don't go."

He stares at the back of Frank's head through a mixture of tears from the burn of alcohol and fear. Vodka drips off his hair and down the back of his neck, he shivers in the chill of the room. Slowly Frank turns around his cold eyes meet Dwight's before trailing up and down his body.

"Sleep on the couch." Frank says, and Dwight nods, relieved that he wasn't going to be left alone, "I don't want to be near you right now." Frank adds before yanking his hand away and stomping into Dwight's room before slamming the door.

Tears start to fall from his eyes, and he stumbles into the bathroom. Quickly stripping out of his alcohol soaked clothing and washing the remaining from his body. Thankfully he hadn't folded the clean laundry yet so he didn't have to disturb Frank to get clothing. There isn't anything he can do about the cut on the back of his head, so he just makes sure its clean and calls it a day.

He takes a few minutes to clean the rest of the alcohol off the floor with the last of his paper towels, and he dumps the leftover cup down the drain. He doesn't feel as relaxed as before, more hollow and disgusting as he lays on the couch in the dark. Maybe he should go see Frank and do what he wanted. He must feel even worse than he did, telling him all that stuff about his step dad only to be rejected must hurt. But he didn't feel...right. None of this felt right. Frank was drunk, and he wasn't any better. They both needed time to cool off, then he could talk to him about it before work.

From the door he hears his phone ring. Curious, Dwight gets up and digs it out of his work bag, squinting at the number on his screen. It was an unknown number, but there was a call history. Normally he would just hang up, but the number was an out of country area code. He sits back on the couch and hits the accept button.

"Hello?" He says softly trying to keep his voice down in case Frank was still awake.

"Oh, uh hello!" A female voice sounds from the phone, obviously not expecting him, "A man called Frank Morrison has been calling from this phone, do you know him?"

"Do you want to talk to him?" Dwight asks, realizing that this was the first time he was hearing Frank's last name, "I can get him."

"No! No it's fine I uh would rather you pass a message onto him." He can hear shuffling on the other end of the phone and a muffled voice, "Actually, if you don't mind me asking, who is Frank to you?"

Dwight frowns, the woman on the phone sounded young and had a slight lisp. Not to mention a similar accent to Frank. What was really strange to him was the...genuine concern in her voice.

"He's uh...it's complicated?" Dwight replies, "Why are you asking?"

There's a few seconds of silence before the woman speaks up, "I'm asking for your wellbeing. My name is Susie, I dunno of Frank has ever mentioned me but we used to be friends when he lived up here."

Dwight frowns, turning to look at the dark hallway, almost expecting Frank to be standing there and watching him. Thankfully the hall stood empty.

"He hasn't...really mentioned you before, sorry."

"It's fine. Listen is Frank there right now?"

"No...he's asleep. Why?" Dwight replies, feeling a sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Susie is silent for another few beats before sighing.

"I'm going to tell you something, uh, what was your name again?"

"Dwight."

"Dwight, has Frank ever told you why he left Ormond?"

"Something about his foster dad?" Dwight answers, wiping a sweaty palm on his jeans, "Right? Said things were getting bad with his step dad?"

Susie sighs sadly, "I don't know how else to tell you this, Dwight. But Frank left Canada because he was the prime suspect in a homicide. I think he's still wanted for murder."

Dwight stares at the darkness in front of him, as Susie's voice continues distantly on the phone.

"If I were you I would get to a safe place and call the police. Frank is a dangerous man, he had me and Joey and Julie wrapped around his finger. There's a reason we won't talk to him, Dwight. Just...please be careful ok?"

The line dies, and the walls seem to swallow him whole. He drops the phone, and it slides across the floor into a pool of moonlight leaking in through the window. Dwight feels numb, as if all the life in his body had drained out of him. Frank was....a killer? Dwight feels his heart start to race, and his breaths start coming in small gasps. He had let a killer into his home? The door to his bedroom opens, and he feels his blood run cold. There was nowhere to hide. No one to help him. He hears footsteps slowly and quietly walk down the hall, and he decides to take a gamble.

When the footsteps stop, he knows Frank is looking down at him from the end of the couch. He takes deep slow breaths, and keeps his eyes shut tight. Time crawls by as he lays under Frank's cold gaze, resisting the urge to jump up and run away. Frank had never believed his fake sleep before, he probably wouldn't now. When an icy hand brushes against his cheek, he almost screams.

"I'm sorry." Frank whispers, before turning away and walking back down the hall.

Dwight doesn't move when the door to his room is closed. He lays still on the couch for hours, until the sunlight leaks in through the window. Then he stands, and makes breakfast for himself and a killer. Frank comes out of the room as soon as Dwight flips the last french toast stick and groans softly.

"What happened last night?" Frank asks, chugging a glass of water and rubbing his temples with another groan.

"You got a little drunk and I put you to bed." Dwight replies, setting a plate down next to Frank and taking his own to the living room, as far away as possible. He grabs his phone off the ground as he passes.

"Fuck me." Frank mumbled through a mouthful of eggs, "Thanks for breakfast."

"No problem."

Dwight takes a tentative bite of his eggs, and feels his stomach churn. He steels himself for the worst, and grips the steak knife he brought out with him harder.

"Frank, is there something you're not telling me?" Dwight asks carefully, moving eggs around with a fork.

"Lot's a things I don't talk about, Dwighty. Anything specific?" Frank replies with a laugh, rounding the corner and sitting on the other end couch.

"Your uh, old friend called last night."

Frank doesn't reply, and Dwight swallows nervously.

"She said the name was Susie, you know her?"

"Yeah....she say anything about me?" Frank asks.

"Just that she...had been busy. I gotta go to work."

"It's your day off." Frank says, sounding annoyed.

"I-I mean I need to do some work here! I'll be in my room!" Dwight says, quickly standing and leaving his mostly full plate in the kitchen before practically running to his room and locking the door.

When he sits at his desk, he goes to Google and stares at the screen. He didn't want to think Frank was a murderer, he was just a homeless guy who was down on his luck. He had been abused and just had weird ways of showing affection but he was no murder. He types Frank Morrison Ormond into the search bar, and immediately multiple articles show up.

'Local Teen Suspected Of Murder Vanishes Into The Night'

'Teen Wanted For Questioning For Legion Murder'

'Frank Morrison: Missing Suspect For Legion Murders Wanted For Questioning'

Dwight fingers go numb, and he closes the browser. He was so fucked. The only saving grace was that almost all the articles were at least four years old. But that just meant this was a four year old cold case. Frank could very well be guilty of fucking murder and in his goddamn living room. He could excuse a lot of stuff with Frank. The guy was dysfunctional as hell, and had a lot of questionable coping mechanisms. Was murder possible for him? A knock sounds at his bedroom and he jumps, gripping the knife and turning to the door in fear.

"Dwight, what the fuck is wrong? I know I act like a...an asshole when I'm drunk but I wasn't on any other drugs this time. Just...tell me what I did." Frank says through the door.

He stands and walks slowly over, knife in hand as he grabs onto the doorknob so Frank can't attempt to turn it. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

"Your friend told me something...i-if you just...admit it to me it will be ok." Dwight says carefully.

"What did she tell you?" Frank asks, voice turning cold.

"What the fuck else would she tell me, Frank."

He feels the knob jiggle, and gripes it tighter as Frank yanks on the door, "If this is about the Legion murders that wasn't fucking me! Dwight open this door!"

Dwight heart seems to freeze in his chest, and any hope that Frank was innocent starts to crumble.

"It was a fucking misunderstanding! They can't prove a goddamn thing! Dwight please open the door!" Frank continues, panic starting to creep into his yells.

Dwight backs away from the door and pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing 911 and putting the phone to his ear.

"Dwight please! Th-they're going to lock me up for something I didn't do! I'm a fucked up piece of shit, but I wouldn't commit murder!"

He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the desperate cries from Frank as he tries to explain to the dispatch what his issue was.

"I love you." Frank says, sounding almost as if he was confessing a great sin. Dwight sets the phone down despite the dispatchers insistence he stay on the phone.

He stands and walks to the door, pressing a hand to the wooden surface and falling to his knees. Emotions swirled inside of him, a mixture of fear, love, hatred, and regret. He thinks of last night, the first time they fucked, every time Frank slowly overstepped his boundaries until Dwight let it get this far. He was going to get killed by this shit one day.

"I love you too." He whispers back as the sound of sirens closes in. He means it, and he wishes he fucking didn't.

He had a bleeding heart of stone, and Frank knew the best way to worm his way into it. He doesn't watch Frank leave, and he guesses it's better that way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I project onto frank but only bcs when i was a homeless youth i too would follow any glasses wearing nerd home for lunch. The murder part? Nah
> 
> Also susie has a chronic lisp its cute


	8. No Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma keep it real with yall. I cried writing this. Also franks pov.
> 
> Dilf stands for dwight id like to f-

Frank looks at the familiar building. A cold breeze blows by, but he's unfazed by the cold. Being back in Cow-Town had done wonders to increase his cold tolerance. He pulls out his phone and checks the time, roughly half past eleven at night. He wonders if he would be able to do it tonight? After all it was his birthday. Only an hour left on the clock.

He crosses the street, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. The back alley was dark and menacing, just the way he remembered. Standing about halfway down was a figure, leaning against the brick wall and staring into space. All it was missing was the burning amber of a cigarette. Frank walks down the alleyway, letting his boot scrape against the pavement when he's only a few feet away from the figure. The man looks over, glasses flashing in the light of the bar behind his back. He pushes off the wall, and steps into the light.

Dwight didn't look much different, clean shaven face, dorky blue sweater and scarf. He was almost expecting the same crack in his right glasses lens. He couldn't help but notice the graying edges to his hair, and new wrinkles on his face. God he looked fucking good. Always been a DILF.

"Can I help you?" Dwight asks, genuinely curious.

"Yeah..." Frank says slowly, almost breathless, "You can."

Realization flashes in Dwight's soft brown eyes, and he takes a half step back. Frank clears his throat, smiling at Dwight and trying to appear non threatening.

"Frank?" Dwight whispers in shock, "Frank fucking Morrison?" Anger suddenly dripping off his words.

"Been a while, eh?" Frank says moments before Dwight lunges forward and punches him in the face.

Pain explodes across his cheek and he lets out a groan, stumbling back a half step before two hands grab the lapels of his jacket and slam him against the wall. The air leaves his lungs and he gasps, thankfully his head didn't hit the bricks behind him. He blinks tears away and at Dwight's rage filled. Frank had finally grown a few inches, and didn't have to look up anymore.

"What the fuck are you doing here." Dwight growls. Frank doesn't respond for a few seconds and Dwight pushes him against the wall again, "Answer me."

He really liked this look on Dwight. Guy never seemed to get angry back when they were together. Always had a calm veneer, a real yes man. Guess he should've realised the storm brewing beneath the surface, especially towards him. Figures he wouldn't get a warm welcome, not after almost a decade.

"Came to see my American boyfriend." Frank says, carefully pressing Dwight's buttons to see what changed.

"I'm not your boyfriend. Never was one."

Frank shrugs, leaning against the bricks and looking past Dwight. Real guilt passed through his thoughts before fading into the usual numbness.

"Guess I came to see you about that then. Figured we should...talk about....us." Frank replies, unable to craft a perfect response when looking into Dwight's soft brown eyes. The flutter in his chest was distracting.

"I should call the cops on you. How'd you sneak in this time." Dwight snaps back, letting go of his jacket and backing away. He crosses his arms and fixes Frank with a steady glare.

Frank pulls his wallet out and then his visa holding it up for Dwight to see, the man leans forward to look at it and a small smiles twitches at his lips.

"Got me there." Dwight admits, looking at his watch and frowning. Frank was running out of time.

"I know it's a lot but can we meet after your shift?" Frank asks, tucking his wallet away, "I...really do want to talk about...well..."

Dwight shifts uncomfortably, looking down the alley and crossing his arms. Frank knew he wouldn't get another chance to talk to Dwight after this, no in their right mind would talk to him after what he did.

"Not alone. We can meet in a public place, and you can leave anytime I just want to...catch up!"

He watches Dwight think for a few moments, eyes softening as he sighs and gives up. Frank had seen that look on him hundreds of times before. It was so easy to get him to give in, he let others walk over him so easily.

"Fine. Fine...we can meet at the bar across the street. You know when I get out." Dwight says, and his watch beeps.

"Oh wait one more thing!" Frank says, digging in his pocket for an unopened pack of cigarettes, he holds them out to Dwight, "Happy birthday."

Gingerly, Dwight takes the packet out of Frank's hand with a soft smile. The sight was utterly breathtaking, he wished he could stare at it forever.

"Thanks." Dwight says softly, "I'll see you in a bit."

Frank watches him swipe his badge, and retreat into the building. With a sigh, Frank walks slowly out of the alley. Turning to the benches out front and taking a seat on one, lighting up a cigarette and watching cars drift by like hours. Eventually Dwight steps out of the building, wearing a light coat and scarf. Frank stands, and waves as Dwight approaches. He got a different backpack. The walk in silence across the street and towards the bar, he lets Dwight choose a both near the back and he slides in across from the man. It's not too busy, a few people at the bar and some walking around. Not surprising since it's a Wednesday at one.

"You want anything to drink? It's on me." Frank offers, watching a waitress start to head over.

"...I still don't drink."

Frank shrugs, "Shirley Temple then?"

Thankfully Dwight laughs at that, bring a hand up to hide his mouth. Just like he always did. It brings a smile to Frank as he orders two Shirley Temples from the waitress. He didn't drink either.

"Since you're here, legally too, I assume you got that murder shit figured out?" Dwight says, keeping his tone casual but the way he stares at him gives away how curious he really is.

"Well yeah that's one way of putting it. You never did let me explain myself that night," Frank bites his lip at the memory then quickly puts on a serene look before adding sarcastically, "Can't imagine why."

"If it's...any help I did look into it a little more after you, uh...left?"

"Yeah, you want the story from the horse's mouth? Or do you really care that much?"

The lady sets their matching drinks down, and Frank slides his over to take a sip. He had an unquenchable sweet tooth for these things.

"Before you tell me I have a question, it'll get rid of some of my nightmares."

"Shoot."

"That last night. When I locked you out and called the cops...what would you have done if I opened the door?"

He stares at Dwight from across the table, taking in the concern and apprehension on his face. He remembers that night, the pounding hangover, what he had done the night before. How frustrated he was that Dwight wouldn't put out and his worry at how jumpy the man was acting. And the explosion of rage when Dwight asked him about the murders. He remembers how white his knuckles turned as he gripped his knife and banged on the door.

"Something very, very stupid." He admits. Letting the reply weigh heavily between them. Dwight nods in understanding.

Frank looks at the swirls in the wood of the counter top. Hard to think all that shit happened so long ago. How much easier his life was back then, how he can never, ever go back. It's better this way, he's better this way.

"It all happened about...fourteen years ago? Time flies eh? I was nineteen at the time and my friend Joey just got fired from the place he worked at. Some shit hole called Legion Liquors because this racist old fuck said Joey had been staring at his wife." Frank watches condensation drip down the side of his glass. He misses Joey so much.

"Sounds illegal." Dwight comments.

"Joey couldn't exactly sue, he wasn't even eighteen yet so he shouldn't have been working there anyway," Frank glances up at Dwight's confused expression, "Legal drinking age is eighteen in Alberta."

"Weird."

"Yeah well small town, no one gives a shit. Anyway, I was pretty pissed about it because Joey's my best friend and that owner is a bastard anyway. So I dared Joey to go throw some rocks through the window. Really get back at the bastard."

"Did he do it?"

Frank shifts in his seat uncomfortably, "I...I had Joey and the others, Julie and Susie...they all..."

"Did everything you asked?" Dwight fills in. Frank is surprised to not hear any bitterness in his tone..

"Yeah. Joey went off to go do it and we smoked some darts while we waited. Took him a lot longer than I thought it would take so I went down to see if he was alright. Joey's black so sometimes he would get picked up by cops and driven home. Ormond ain't Saskatoon so I never worried about him or Susie gettin' taken on starlight tours but well..." Frank shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. He hadn't talked this much in a while. Dwight was leaning on the table, giving Frank his undivided attention. It almost made him blush.

"Anyway I got to the liquor store and the front window was broke, the alarm system had been faulty for years so it was all dark in there. I couldn't help but be real worried that Joey got picked up, partly because he might rat me out and also because hey that's my boy. So I walk up to the window a look in." Frank pauses, a shudder going through his as he remembers the night.

"Imagine my surprise when I see the front door open too, and I can barely make out a light on in the office. I went in and...god." Frank stops and rubbed his temples, "I'm a bad person, Dwight. You know this, I know this, hell its my fucking defining trait. But I'm no killer. Don't have the guts for that shit."

Maybe if his life were a little worse, or maybe if he hadn't met Joey, Susie or Julie. Hell maybe if he was in a different place on the wrong day. Maybe if he was drunk and Dwight had pushed his buttons just right. Maybe he could kill someone, maybe. But the thought of it churned his stomach. Dwight doesn't say anything, and he continues.

"I walked into the store and went to the back. I pushed the door open and...god the owner, I don't even remember his name, he was just on the floor covered in blood and..." Frank takes a slow breath, "He'd been stabbed to death with a piece of glass."

"Jesus christ." Dwight whispers.

"I panicked. I was nineteen and I thought Joey fucking stabbed a guy to death. So I just bolted out of that room like a bat out of hell. I ran back to the rest of us, we were hanging at Julie's house a few blocks away. When I got there Joey was there and I just...freaked out on him. I was yelling about him killing the owner, I guess I was delirious. It all kinda gets fuzzy from there."

"Sounds like it, Jesus. Why did you run then, Frank?"

"When I went home I found my foster dad drunk, not unusual of course, but...he was covered in blood and had cuts on his hands." Frank shuddered at the thought, "So I packed a bag and skipped town. Crossed the border around Minnesota and ended up here. Guess my foster dad framed me and since I ran well, looks pretty guilty."

Frank finishes the rest of his drink and leans back, feeling exhausted from walking down memory lane, "When I got back to Ormond the cops essentially just said you fucked up and threw me to the curb. I have no family, no one wanted to really talk to me. I...I dunno. Found a shelter in cow-town, got a job, got therapy. Stopped drinking. I talk to Susie sometimes but Julie and Joey are adamant about not seeing me again. Can't blame them."

He looks up at Dwight to see the man smiling at him, he blushes and looks away. Feeling the same lost homeless vagrant nine years ago, "I...I cleaned up my act b-because of you."

"Frank I-"

"N-no, hear me out!" Frank sits up, meeting Dwight's eyes with his, "I'm not trying to ask you for a second chance. Fuck I don't deserve to even be here. But...no one has ever been so fucking kind to me. I had been roughing it for five years when we met. I've seen a lot of monsters Dwight, hell I am my own kind of monster. And just...to meet someone like you that was so- is so kind and giving and just...good is rare."

Frank pauses, taking a few deep breaths and pushing back tears, "What I did to you is unforgivable. Taking advantage of you when I should've been bettering myself is...is a fucked up mistake. You...you...you fucking care too much you know that?"

He can't stop tears from leaking out of his eyes, and he looks down. Covering his face with his hands and taking a few shuddering breaths.

"Frank I-"

"Don't forgive me. Don't you dare forgive me." He interrupts, voice steady despite the sobs attempting to ripe out of his throat, "Just...thank you. For everything."

He hears Dwight stand, and before he can move a warm body slides in next to him and an arm wraps around his shoulder, pulling him close. He doesn't resist and leans against Dwight's chest, breathing in the once familiar scent. He bits his lip to hold back his sobs.

"I meant it when I said I loved you." He whispers. Dwight squeezes his shoulders tight.

"You really fucked me up, Frank. I know you know that, but I want to say it. My life hasn't been as...viscerally fucked up as yours so I can say that you're the worst thing that happened to me."

Frank nods into Dwight's chest. The man needed to say this, it was his turn to speak.

"I...let you do a lot of things I shouldn't have. I knew you needed help, and I thought you needed it from me but...I'm just not the best person to help you. The writing was on the wall, I just didn't want to read it." Dwight says, voice soft and thoughtful.

"I kept you around for selfish reasons. I didn't want to be alone, and you were an easy target. I've been told by my therapist, that you didn't want me to leave either and...I guess that makes sense." Dwight sighs and Frank can feel him shake his head, "I meant it when I said I love you, that day."

The words send warmth through Frank's body, and he smiles. As fucked up as it was, he still loved Dwight. He couldn't help but love the man that helped him so much more than anyone else had. He pulls away, wiping tears from his face and trying to look more presentable.

"Thank you for...hearing me out. H-how have you been doing?"

Dwight laughs, and if he isn't mistaking he can see a few tears in the others eyes as well.

"Better. I moved, got a roommate. Still work in the same building but I'm a secretary now. I see my therapist once a month and I generally get out more. Quit smoking."

Frank smiles, genuinely overjoyed, "That's the best news I heard all week."

"Frank I really am proud of you. For getting help and admitting to your mistakes. I know you're a good person, always have been."

"Don't make me cry again." Frank says, covering his face and taking a breath to calm himself down.

Dwight's warm fingers catch his chin, and tilt his head up. Slowly he leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.

"You really are something special." Dwight says softly.

"You too, office boy."

Frank leaves a fifty on the table, and the two leave the bar in silence. Almost without thinking they cross the street and enter the alley way again, stopping halfway down. Next to the door and graffiti. Frank leans against the bright bubble letters of garish Swedish words, and Dwight leans against the bricks of the other building. Ten years ago, he wasted his chance at happiness but he fought tooth and nail to get it back. And Dwight had done something similar.

"If you ever want to try again, you know where to find me." Dwight says softly before clearing his throat, "It'll be different. But...well I do still love you. I know what you did back then was your way of showing love, as fucked up and wrong as it was. And well...always have had a bleeding heart of stone."

Frank smiles, he would like nothing more than to be with Dwight again. Not to go back ten years no, that was only good for him. He wanted to start again, to meet Dwight as a new person a new beginning. But there was a darkness in him, that would always be there. Breathing down his neck, telling him what to do. How to make them stay. He looks at the collection of round scars on the back of his right hand. Maybe if he had less of these scars on his heart and mind and body. Then he could be with someone. But his sins were his burden, and he would be damned if he let them fall on anyone else again.

"I'd rather stay friends." Frank replies, shoving his hand into his pocket and gripping his knife, "I think it's better that way."

Dwight's face falls, but he nods in understanding. He was still too kind, too easy to read. He watches Dwight walk forward and engulf him in one last hug, which he returns with one arm.

"I'm happy to have you as a friend."

"Me too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! This fic has been a wild ride and im grateful for a the comments and support!
> 
> Remember, you do not have to forgive people that caused you pain, youre entitled to your own feelings and as long as you can grow from it you can become a better person
> 
> Dont forget if you find yourself in an abusive or toxic relationship please reach out for help. There are plenty of resources and hotlines to call, stay safe and protect yourself!
> 
> Thank you again for reading 💖


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